The Undying Fire: Truth and Lies
by Boogum
Summary: Book 2. The scarred boy is found alone and half dead. All he has on him is a knife, a Pai Sho tile, and a bit of parchment with a riddle on it. He thinks he might have been searching for someone, and the wound on his shoulder and the fear prickling his heart tells him he was running from something. The problem is that he doesn't remember. He doesn't remember anything.
1. Truth and Lies

Welcome to book 2! (Head on over to book 1, _Blood and Fire_, if you haven't read it yet. You gonna be big lost otherwise.)

Big thanks to dejavidetc for doing the amazing cover art!

* * *

Leaving the Northern Water Tribe had been a relief for Aang. The warriors had been in an uproar when it was revealed that Prince Zuko had escaped, furious that their enemy and—at least for Iluq and his supporters—supposed bargaining tool with the Fire Lord had slipped free from their grasp. Only Master Pakku had not seemed to care, stating that he was not going to let one escaped prince get in the way of his plans to help rebuild the Southern Water Tribe. He suggested that Aang and the others should do the same and offered to take them as far with him on the boat as he could before they had to depart for the Earth Kingdom base.

So it was that Aang and his friends had set sail with Master Pakku and the selected group of Northern Water Tribe warriors and healers. Yugoda had not come, which Aang knew had upset Katara at first. However, the elderly healer had given her plenty of scrolls to study to keep improving her healing techniques. Yugoda had also advised that whether Katara became a true master of healing or not would depend on her intuitive and chi manipulation abilities. Theory was good, but healing was a more spiritual art at the end of the day. That was why powerful healers were rare, even among the Northern Water Tribe where all female waterbenders were forced to learn the art.

Aang had discovered for himself that, despite being the Avatar, he could not make his waterbending heal even the smallest bruise. He felt sorry for the girls who also had no knack for the talent. It was his hope that they would be allowed to learn combative waterbending, like Katara had done. He didn't like to think of benders not being able to use their element just because they couldn't pick up a skill the tribe had decreed to be the only suitable form for a female. It just didn't seem right.

Musing about right and wrong got Aang thinking about his own problem, the one he had been desperately trying to ignore ever since he and Zuko had talked in the cell. As the Avatar, it was his duty to maintain balance and to protect the people around him. He had thought he had been doing that during the siege of the North, but now he wasn't so certain. Every time he slept, he had nightmares where he was back in the Avatar State, only this time he was attacking himself. It was scary. _He_ was scary.

Aang squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images. He didn't want to dwell on those dreams. He didn't want to dwell on that night. There were some things that he could not deny, even though he desperately wished it were otherwise. Shredded pieces of metal could not unite again to form hundreds of war ships. Bloated, frozen bodies could not renew with warmth and life. It would be easy enough to connect the pieces, to combine the angry words that had been thrown at his face with the whispered fragments of truth that, deep down, his heart already knew. But Aang refused to let his mind wander down that path. It was too painful, like a bruise throbbing at the slightest touch.

_This will hurt you, his mind seemed to say. You don't want to search too deep._

And he didn't. He really didn't. But that didn't stop the nightmares from haunting him even when he was awake.

"Aang?"

It was Katara. He gripped the ship railing and stared towards the darkened ocean as she came to stand beside him. For a moment neither said anything. She placed her hand on his shoulder and the warmth of her touch sank right through into his skin, filling him with a sense of comfort. Katara always knew how to make him feel better.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

He shook his head. "It was just a nightmare."

"You've been having them a lot lately."

Aang said nothing. He knew it was true.

She sighed and let her hand drop back to her side.

"Come on, Aang. We should get some sleep. We'll be heading to the Earth Kingdom base tomorrow."

"Yeah."

He gave one last look at the ocean, then turned and headed back to the cabin. When he fell asleep, the nightmares still haunted him.

oOo

Zuko examined the white lotus tile resting on his palm. It had been a week since he had first set out on the raft. In that time, he had simply tried to survive. When he was not focussed on keeping his raft and body intact, he worked on figuring out the riddle that had been his mysterious helper's final message.

"Follow the path of the ancient ways and you will find what you are seeking," Zuko repeated, having memorised the note long ago. He growled in frustration and stuffed the tile back in his pocket. "I don't understand!"

He didn't know what the ancient ways were. He wasn't even certain if he knew what the note had meant by finding what he was seeking. He had been searching for the Avatar for almost three years, but somehow that didn't fit. All he had to help him was the dagger and a white lotus tile, two things that he associated strongly with his uncle. It was that connection which had him so frustrated now. In his heart, he believed the message was a clue to finding his uncle—the person he was indeed seeking—but Zuko had might as well have been trying to decipher a different language for all the sense he could make of it.

"Why does everything have to be in riddles?" he grumbled, letting his arms rest on his knees as he leaned back against the mast.

If people just spoke plainly, he might already have an idea of where to begin his search. Instead, he was stuck trying to figure out what the ancient ways might be and why his anonymous helper had given him a Pai Sho tile of all things. He also couldn't help but wonder why someone in the Northern Water Tribe had chosen to help him in the first place, let alone given him, or so he hoped, clues as to how he might find his uncle.

Zuko closed his eyes, feeling the sun caress his face. It pained him to admit it, but he knew that the Avatar would have tried to help him break out of prison, yet the note and the careful way the escape route had been planned was much too subtle for that airhead, or for any of the Avatar's friends for that matter. He did wonder if perhaps the healer, Yugoda, might have had something to do with his escape. For all he'd got frustrated with her, she had been kind to him in her own way, and he had not forgotten that she had been the one holding onto his dagger. Still, he had got the impression that she did not know how to fight, and someone had taken out all the guards.

His brow creased. Was it that old guy then? The one with the piercing eyes who had come to warn him and asked weird questions?

Zuko sighed and stretched his legs out more. Maybe he'd never know who had helped him, but he wished he could at least unravel the stupid message. That was all he really cared about right now, and surviving.

"I hope I find land soon," he muttered.

He'd been lucky enough to have good winds to push him along for most of the week, but he wasn't sure how much longer his supplies would last, even with all of the rationing he'd been doing. The stars told him that he was at least heading towards the Earth Kingdom, but he had little choice but to let the current take his raft where it willed. One sail and a paddle could only do so much in terms of helping him navigate the ocean. It was just fortunate that he could swim and was well and truly used to being tossed around in choppy waters. He could have done without the circling sea vultures, though.

Zuko exhaled and got back to his feet, picking up the paddle as he did. No sense in sitting around. He had to be quick if he wanted to catch up to his uncle.

_Then I'm coming for you, Avatar_, he thought grimly.

oOo

The Earth Kingdom base had not been what Aang was expecting. General Fong had greeted them with high praise and an impressive display of fireworks, but the cheery atmosphere had not lasted. As soon as they had been called into the general's private room, Aang had begun to feel uncomfortable. The general kept talking about the great victory Aang had achieved in the North, oblivious to Aang's mixed feelings regarding the subject. Then, to the shock of all, he had declared that Aang was ready to face the Fire Lord.

Aang could still remember the distinct jolt of horror he had felt upon hearing those words, the horror he had continued to feel as the general went on to explain that the powers he gained by entering the Avatar State would be more than enough to defeat the Fire Lord. With the Avatar leading the head of the army as the ultimate weapon, the Earth Kingdom could cut a swath right through to the heart of the Fire Nation. Nothing would be able to stop them. It was a foolproof plan, and the general was not going to take no for an answer.

In vain had Aang tried to explain that he did not know how to get in or out of the Avatar State, let alone control it; in vain had Katara stated that Aang needed to be focussing on learning the elements. The general had listened to all with deaf ears and then, when their protests had fallen silent, he had shown them the infirmary. In his mind, Aang could still see the injured Earth Kingdom soldiers. Some of them had missing limbs while others had been badly burnt. Some had not been moving at all.

"Those are the lucky ones," General Fong had said. "They came back."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. He knew what the general had been trying to do—that was the reason they were still at the base, after all. Because Aang could not quite forget General Fong's parting words.

_"People are dying, Aang! You could end it, now! Think about it."_

He sighed and stared out over the balcony, looking down at the group of wounded soldiers. It was easy to walk away when it was just a blustering general telling him that he needed to defeat the Fire Lord; it was not so easy when he was confronted with a courtyard of pain-tinged expressions and disfigured bodies. Avatar Roku had told him that he needed to master the elements before going against Ozai, except Aang only had until summer's end before the comet arrived, and every day the Fire Nation was taking more lives.

"There isn't enough time," Aang muttered, tightening his grip on the balcony so that his knuckles burned white.

He had no guarantee that he would be able to master the elements before the comet arrived, but he did know the full extent of the power he could gain through entering the Avatar State. The only problem was that he didn't know if learning how to enter the Avatar State was the right thing to do either. The nightmares had continued to plague him and he had by no means forgotten his conversation with Zuko.

_"It was cruel and wrong. If that's your method of keeping the balance, Avatar, then I want nothing to do with you."_

Aang hung his head, conscious of a sharp twisting in his gut. No matter what he did, people were going to die. He wished he knew what was right. He wished he had someone to advise him, yet all he felt in that moment was the unbearable weight of General Fong's hand still pressing down on his shoulder.

oOo

The storm set in swiftly. Zuko would have cursed the spirits for his bad luck, but in truth he wasn't all that surprised. Three years ago today he had lost everything when his father had banished him. Now he was celebrating the anniversary by struggling for his life on a worn out raft surrounded by heaving waters.

In despair, he watched the remains of his supplies get swept overboard and then disappear into the black depths. In despair, he saw the mast break and the cloth sail whip away in the wind. He tried to cling to the paddle for as long as possible, but he was having a difficult time just trying to keep himself on the raft. A wave crashed over him, dragging and sucking him towards the water like a gaping maw. The paddle was nowhere to be seen.

He cursed and tightened his hold on the wood. Splinters pierced his hands, but he was too charged with adrenaline to notice the pain. Then another wave pummelled into him and he found himself choking on a mouthful of salty water as he was forced to release his grip. Though a strong swimmer, Zuko was helpless in that moment. Down and down he went, pushed deeper by the gravity of the waves while the ocean tugged him in every direction as if trying to tear him apart. Fear seized hold of his chest as he realised he had no idea in which direction he should go to find the surface, and he knew with grim certainty that he needed to get to the surface. The burning in his lungs and the painful urge to vomit told him that he had swallowed too much water. He was already beginning to feel sluggish and dizzy.

_I'm going to drown._

The thought flashed in his mind, but instead of accepting his defeat, he forced himself into motion, praying with all of his heart that he was heading in the right direction. The current still pushed and pulled, but at last he managed to break through the surface. He coughed and spat out the water that had got into his lungs, even as he took in great gulps of air. A quick scan of his surroundings revealed that his raft was now several metres away. Inwardly he groaned, but he knew he would not be able to survive the storm unless he could hold onto something that floated.

He was just about to start swimming in earnest when a fresh wave smashed into his back, pushing him back under the water. Zuko managed to keep his mouth shut this time, but he was still gasping for air when he finally got back to the surface. To his horror, he realised he was now even farther from the raft.

"No!"

The scream ripped free from his throat, angry and bitter, and so terribly afraid. He did not want to die. He had gone through too much to die now. But the ocean was determined to keep him, and no matter how determinedly he tried to reach the raft, his fingers never did find purchase. Water encased his body. It slipped inside his mouth and nostrils to choke his breath; it stung his eyes and turned his vision into a haze of liquid black. He was losing consciousness, but then arms wrapped around his body, pulling him upwards.

"Don't worry, Prince Zuko," a gruff voice said in his ear. "I've got you."

Zuko blinked dazedly and saw a blur of red. Then his eyes rolled back into his head and even the storm ceased to matter.

oOo

Someone was stroking his face. Zuko could feel the soft fingers skimming along his forehead, then brushing down across his unscarred cheek in a caress that just allowed the person's little finger to trace the curve of his jaw. It was a gentle touch, should have been a soothing touch, but his chest tightened and his muscles tensed. Long, sharpened fingernails grazed his skin as the person stroked his face again. He breathed in sharply and opened his eyes. A young girl stared back at him, her dark hair pulled up into a topknot with a red headpiece holding it in place.

"Hello, Brother," she greeted, allowing a smile to form on her lips.

Zuko wrenched his face away from her hand. "Azula. What are you doing here?"

She made a sound of disapproval. "In my country, we exchange a pleasant 'hello' before asking questions. Have you become uncivilized so soon, Zuzu?"

"Don't call me that!"

Her eyes gleamed. Zuko ignored her and tried to sit up on the bed, only to sway as a rush of dizziness washed over him. He placed his hand against the wall to keep himself upright, taking in deep, steadying breaths. Spirits, he felt so weak. He wasn't even sure how he had got out of the storm, but one look around the room told him that he was in some kind of steel cabin, which meant he had to be on a Fire Nation ship.

"How did I get here?" he asked. "What happened?"

"My guards went fishing. They found you half-dead in the ocean. You're lucky I was around. You would have drowned if my helmsman hadn't seen you."

Zuko's eyes narrowed a fraction. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

Azula sighed. "Well, since you're so intent to get to the point. I actually came to find you."

"Me?"

"You and Uncle, but yes. I've come with a message from home. Father's changed his mind. Family is suddenly very important to him. He's heard rumours of plans to overthrow him—treacherous plots. Family are the only ones you can really trust." Her voice softened, as did her expression. "Father regrets your banishment, Zuko. He wants you home."

For a moment Zuko was too stunned to say anything. His emotions whirled inside of him, too fast for him to understand what it was exactly that he felt. Hope, fear, relief, uncertainty. They were all there, tangling in a confused mesh of feelings, yet all he could think over and over were those simple words: his father wanted him home. His father wanted him _home_.

"Did you hear me?" Azula demanded. "You should be happy. Excited. Grateful. I just gave you great news."

Zuko met his sister's gaze. "Father regrets?" he asked in a voice that sounded too small and vulnerable to be his own. "He—he wants me back?"

"Isn't that what I just told you? Really, Zuko, how much sea water did you swallow?"

He shook his head, looking the other way. "I just—it's been three years."

Three years of silence. Three years of wondering if he would ever be able to prove himself worthy of his father's respect. He raised a hand to his scar, feeling the rough, uneven flesh. How he had ached to hear those words, to be told that he could finally go home. He had thought it would only happen once he had captured the Avatar, but there were no stipulations this time. No impossible tasks. His father regretted his banishment. His father cared. It almost seemed too good to be true.

Azula stood up from the bed. "I can see you need time to take this in. If you need anything, call for one of the guards. I'd recommend a bath and a change of clothes." She eyed his borrowed attire with distaste. "Those Water Tribe rags you're wearing are not fit for the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation."

He watched her turn to leave. "Wait."

She glanced back at him with her eyebrow raised.

"You mentioned Uncle," Zuko said, conscious of the way his heart pounded in his chest. "Do you know where he is?"

Azula's expression hardened. "Uncle Iroh will not be coming home with us."

"You've seen him?"

She nodded. "This morning, in fact. At the Ying Hua bathhouse."

"Then why—"

"It seems that Uncle does not share our feeling for family unity." Her lips curved. "But I'm sure he'll come around with the right persuasion."

A crease formed on Zuko's brow. He couldn't imagine his uncle walking away from a chance to return to the Fire Nation. Not after everything that had happened, and especially not if he knew that Zuko's banishment had been lifted. It didn't make sense yet—

"Don't look so troubled, Zuzu," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm sure that once Uncle realises you're safe in the palace, he'll come back home."

"I guess," he said slowly.

She allowed her smile to widen. "Well, I'll leave you to get some rest. Don't forget to call for the guards if you need anything."

He nodded absently, too tired and too distracted by everything he had heard to pay attention to her parting words. It wasn't until the door had closed behind her that he realised what had felt so wrong about the conversation. Azula had been pleasant. Too pleasant.

_Azula always lies._

The thought flickered in his mind, but he banished it immediately. There was no reason for his sister to lie about something like this. No reason at all. He was just being paranoid. He was just tense from being stuck on a raft for almost three weeks and nearly drowning. He should be grateful that she had saved him. He was grateful that she had saved him.

But he still felt uneasy.

Zuko sighed and placed his head in his hands, running his fingers along the short strands of hair that had grown back while he had been stuck in prison and travelling on the raft. He'd have to shave that off eventually, but not right now. His sister had given him much to think about, and he was just too exhausted and on edge to care about something as mundane as his appearance. Though a bath did sound nice. In fact, the thought of getting out of his dirty, salt-encrusted clothes and soaking in a tub of hot water sounded really, really nice.

"I suppose there's no harm in relaxing a little," he mused.

He could worry about why his uncle had chosen not to return with them to the Fire Nation later. For now, he'd just try to make the most of his new accommodations. There were some things that even Zuko could not resist. After three weeks of not being able to wash, a hot bath was definitely one of them.

oOo

A firm knock on the door startled Zuko awake. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and wondering how long he'd been out. After bathing and changing into the grey jinbei one of the firebenders had brought for him, he'd ended up face-planting his pillow and falling asleep in seconds. His bones still ached with tiredness. It would probably be a while before he recovered from everything that had happened. Unfortunately, whoever was knocking on the other side of the door was persistent.

"What is it?" Zuko asked, smothering a yawn with his hand.

"Princess Azula has requested you join her for dinner."

He raised his eyebrow. Even if the man used the word "request", it was obviously an order. Azula was still as demanding as ever.

Zuko didn't have the energy to fight his sister just then, and a part of him had to admit that he was curious. They'd had no contact since his banishment. He wanted to ask her about home. He wanted to know if she had changed at all. Plus, he was just damn hungry.

He slid his feet into the slippers he'd been given and opened the door. The same firebender who'd attended on him earlier greeted him—the tall, beefy man with the wonky nose. Zuko's brow creased. Was this guy meant to be his personal helper now or something?

"What's your name again?" Zuko asked.

The man blinked. "Uh, Shu."

"Shu. Okay."

Shu looked a bit at a loss. Perhaps Azula had never asked for his name before. He straightened a second later and his expression became as lively as a plank of wood. "You should hurry, Prince Zuko," he advised. "Princess Azula does not like to be kept waiting."

Zuko repressed a sigh. It seemed his sister was still terrorising everyone with her impatience. Then again, he probably hadn't been much better while hunting the Avatar.

"I'm ready," he said. "Lead the way."

They headed down the corridor, passing circular windows that looked out onto the deck. Zuko realised very quickly that his sister's ship was huge. His own—now a mess of rubble thanks to Zhao and the pirates—would have been like a baby's toy in comparison. Old jealousy stirred in the pit of his stomach. Typical of Father's favourite to get the nice boat. There wasn't even a speck of rust. He bet her crew didn't demand music nights or get drunk on the job either.

_Forget it_, Zuko told himself.

It had always been this way. Besides, what mattered was that Father was letting him go back home. Azula could have all the fancy ships she wanted for all it mattered now.

They stopped outside a big, metal door. Shu knocked twice. He waited for Azula to grant them entrance before opening it and gesturing for Zuko to go inside.

Zuko blinked a little as he crossed the threshold. The cabin was large and well-furnished—not the bare requirements, that was for sure. There was an ornate cabinet and desk, a luxurious rug, and even the massive bed was adorned with red, silk hangings. Personally, Zuko thought it was a bit over the top. He'd just slept on a plain mattress on his ship and his furniture could have only been described as serviceable. Then again, this was his sister. Azula had always liked to pamper herself. He remembered she'd been forever getting her nails and hair done back at the palace.

His gaze shifted to her. She sat at a low table that had been set for two. Fish, rice and vegetables were laid out on top. His mouth watered. Never mind the furnishings; the smell of their dinner was tantalising. How long had it been since he'd had proper food?

"Leave us," Azula ordered, not taking her eyes off her brother.

Shu and a female servant, who had been standing quietly in the corner, bowed and left the room. The door was shut so brother and sister could have some privacy. Zuko got the impression that Azula wanted him to ask her for permission to sit. He refused to do that. Instead, he walked confidently to the table and sat down on the cushion opposite her.

Azula's eyes gleamed a little. "You look better now that you're not wearing those rags," she observed. "Pity about the scar. It's really quite ugly, isn't it?"

He had to resist the urge to ball his hands into fists. "I guess. I don't think about it much."

It was difficult to keep his tone flat. Still, if he let show that she had struck a nerve, she'd just dig her claws in deeper. That was her way. Besides, he knew she'd only made the comment because he'd refused to play her game. Azula didn't like it when people ruined her fun.

"I think you've changed," she said, eyeing him with a suddenly sharp gaze.

"You haven't at all."

They stared at each other for a tense moment. Then her lips curved upwards.

"Come, Brother, let's not fight tonight. We've finally been reunited after all these years." Her smile widened and she extended her hand to him. "Haven't you missed me even a little?"

Zuko let out a breath. "Are you saying you've missed me?"

"Of course." She placed her hand on his. "We're family, aren't we?"

His shoulders relaxed a fraction. Maybe his sister had changed in some ways. "Right," he agreed. "Family."

She released his hand and encouraged him to start eating. Zuko didn't need telling twice. He made quick work of his fish before setting into his rice and vegetables. The food tasted as good as it smelt, succulent and fresh. He definitely appreciated being rescued now. Since Azula was also smart enough not to bring up any sensitive topics again, not to mention could be very charming when she wanted, dinner passed more pleasantly than he'd anticipated. They talked about home and all their old acquaintances. He was a bit shocked to learn that Ty Lee had run away to join a travelling circus and that Mai was living in a newly conquered area of the Earth Kingdom.

"It's just been me for a while now," Azula said, flicking a few grains of rice over in her bowl with her chopsticks. "Not that I'm repining. Friends can be such a distraction and I've been busy with training."

"Oh?"

She rested her chin on her hand. "How is your bending coming along?"

Zuko's cheeks heated. He hadn't even mastered the basics. "Fine, I guess," he mumbled, looking the other way.

Azula stared at him with far too shrewd eyes. At any other time, she would have pounced on the lie and made him fess up the truth. Then she would have mocked him mercilessly until he felt no better than an insect stuck underneath her boot. But tonight she was trying to be a good sister.

"Well, keep at it," she said in an even tone. "Practice makes perfect."

His eyes widened a fraction. The comment went against everything he would have expected from her. She had been so brutal in the past.

_"You'll never catch up."_

Zuko lowered his gaze. "Right."

They continued to talk about inconsequential things. When she smiled and later wished him goodnight, he found that he had no reason not to smile in return or to hope that she slept well. Still, something just niggled. It wasn't just because she had been nice during dinner, and he frankly wasn't used to that. It was something about this whole situation.

If Azula wasn't lying, why hadn't their uncle joined her? What had made Iroh stay away? The thought wouldn't stop nagging.

He was still mulling over the matter when he walked back to his own cabin. Shu shadowed his footsteps, having come to collect him from Azula's room. Never mind that Zuko could remember the way just fine. It was like his sister was worried he would go wandering off or something.

"I don't need you to keep hanging around," Zuko said once they reached his room. "I'm just going to sleep."

He closed the door without another word, though some instinct made him pause and listen. No retreating footsteps sounded from the other side. Either Shu walked like an airbender or he was still standing outside the door.

Zuko let out a breath. Certainly, it could not be said that this was a damning piece of evidence. It just didn't sit right with him either. Like the fact his uncle had not come, like the fact Azula had been so pleasant when her sadistic urge to poke at his sensitive spots was still there. He needed to know the truth. The question was how to get that when his sister had a habit of lying and everyone on the ship was her subordinate.

His mouth twisted. It seemed he had his work cut out for him.

oOo

Aang woke with a lurching sensation and his heart pounding. Darkness greeted his eyes. Sokka was snoring from his left, reminding him where he was and that it had been a long time since he had last seen Zuko, let alone fought him on a ship. Slowly, his muscles began to relax. It was just a dream. Only a dream.

But it had seemed so real.

He placed his hands over his face, trying to block out the images. In his mind, however, he could still see the white glow that had illuminated his arrows as he turned to confront Zuko, still see the fear that entered those gold eyes as he slashed forward to strike. Aang shivered and hugged his knees to his chest. He didn't want to think about what had happened next, because in his dream he hadn't been aiming to hurt Zuko. He had been aiming to kill.

_Just don't think about it_, he told himself. _It was a dream. It didn't mean anything._

But the images would not leave him. The longer he sat there, the more disturbed he felt. In all of his other nightmares he had been the one to be attacked by his glowing self. This was the first time someone else had taken his place, and it troubled him that his subconscious should have chosen Zuko. Perhaps it was because he had been thinking about him earlier that day, or maybe it was because he had felt a twinge of those awful feelings again, the ones that told him that Zuko's life was in danger. Somehow, though, Aang thought it was more than that.

_"I saw the bodies! I saw the ships! No Water Tribe army could have done that, but you—you most definitely could."_

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. Zuko had been the one who had first made him realise the true significance of what the victory at the North Pole had meant. Zuko's words had been harsh and hurtful, but they had opened Aang's eyes to a glimpse of the truth. A truth he now knew that he could no longer deny. The white rage of the Avatar State had filled him with grim determination during the siege of the North, a blinding need to defend and attack, but it had also controlled him into creating a floating graveyard. It had made him kill. There was nothing that could change that, no matter how strongly Aang knew in his heart that he had never intended to take a life.

Now, after reliving those attacks from the point of view of his victims, Aang knew that Zuko had been right. He should have never gone into the Avatar State, no matter how upset he had been. The monks had always told him that those with great power also had a responsibility to control that power, but Aang had allowed the Avatar State to control him. He had been as wild as Admiral Zhao's fireballs, tearing destruction through the Fire Nation navy with careless ease.

"Like a monster," he whispered, echoing Zuko's words.

It was a crushing realisation. What sickened Aang most was that even after the battle, he had not considered that he had been attacking individual soldiers. He had just seen Fire Nation: a faceless enemy that needed to be stopped. Even Zuko screaming at him about all the men and women who had died had not really allowed the truth to sink in. It was only after Aang had seen himself kill Zuko in his dream that he realised the Fire Nation was more than just nameless figures in red and black armour. After all, Zuko was Fire Nation too, and he did have a face: one that was scarred and fierce, but could bleed and bruise just like anyone else's.

Aang buried his face into his knees. There was no saying what he should have done at the North Pole. The Fire Nation navy had needed to be stopped, of that there was no denying, but maybe there had been a better way that he could have gone about things. Still, it was too late now. The past was the past. All he could do was try to shape the future, and in that he knew he could not help General Fong invade the Fire Nation.

People were dying, but they were dying on both sides. Aang wasn't about to add to that number if he could help it.

oOo

The next morning, Aang made his way to General Fong's room. He spotted him standing by the window, looking down into the courtyard where Aang knew the injured soldiers would be gathering to be healed. Something clenched in his stomach, but he ignored the feeling. He had made up his mind.

"General Fong?" Aang said, taking a few steps into the room.

The general turned and welcomed Aang with a warm smile. "Come in, Aang. Have you thought about our discussion?"

Aang stared at his feet. "I have, and I've realised that Katara is right. At this point, I just need to focus on mastering the four elements."

"I would have thought, being the Avatar, that you would understand the importance of ending this war quickly. Or do you not care that hundreds of people are dying every day?"

"I do care," Aang said softly. "That's why I can't go through with your plan." He raised his head, meeting his gaze with grave determination. "I won't be your weapon, General Fong. I won't kill for you or for anyone else. As the Avatar, it's my duty to keep balance in the world. To do that I have to master the four elements and then defeat the Fire Lord. That is my destiny, and that is what I will do."

"You're making a mistake, Avatar."

Aang shook his head. "No. For once, I'm doing the right thing."

General Fong's mouth twisted into what might have been a frown but which looked more like a snarl. He said a lot of things after that—cruel, wounding things that were designed to make Aang feel guilty and as if he was abandoning the Earth Kingdom, even the world, to be slaughtered by the Fire Nation. It was all emotional blackmail, of course, and maybe once Aang would have been moved by the accusations, but in that moment he just felt sad. Sad and tired.

"I'm sorry, General," Aang said, bowing low to him in the fashion of the Air Nomads. "Nothing you say will change my mind."

Aang turned on his heel and left the room. The sound of rock smashing echoed in his ears, but he just quickened his pace, knowing there was nothing he could do. It didn't take him long to find Sokka and Katara.

"You alright?" Sokka asked, noticing his expression. "You don't look so good."

"We need to leave," Aang said, already moving to pack his things.

Sokka scratched his chin. "What about that escort we were supposed to be getting to take us to Omashu? Wasn't that crazy general supposed to—"

"That's why we need to leave. I told General Fong that I'm not going to help him invade the Fire Nation. He, uh, wasn't exactly happy about it."

"Right," Sokka said, catching on. "So we can probably forget the escort, then?"

Aang smiled sheepishly. "Pretty much."

"Well, I'm glad we're leaving," Katara said, folding her arms across her chest. "I didn't like that General Fong guy one bit, and I think we're better off without any escort he could have given us."

Momo landed on Aang's shoulder and chirruped loudly. Aang smiled and scratched the lemur behind the ears. "I think Momo agrees with you."

"Wait a minute!" Sokka exclaimed, looking from one to the next with dawning realisation. "Does this mean we're going to miss breakfast?"

Aang blinked. "Um, I guess."

Sokka sighed and clutched at his grumbling belly. "Sorry, stomach. Looks like it's going to be nuts again."

Katara rolled her eyes. "You'll survive, I'm sure."

Aang flashed a smile at him. "Come on, Sokka. Just think of the feast Bumi will give us once we get to Omashu!"

That did cheer Sokka up, but as they packed the rest of their belongings and then flew away on Appa, it was with a heavy heart that Aang watched the Earth Kingdom base fade from view. He knew he had made the right choice, but that didn't make living with his decision any easier.

For the sake of the world, even the Fire Nation, he hoped that he would be able to master the elements soon.

oOo

Zuko had known at some point he would have to search his sister's cabin. Something about being on this ship made him on edge, like a wind-up toy waiting to be released. Azula's answers to his questions were not satisfying. The fact he was being watched all the time grated. He'd found himself thinking back on their first conversation, remembering the way her expression had hardened when he'd asked about his uncle, remembering her sharp little smiles and gleaming eyes—the discordant notes in her smooth masterpiece. That was the Azula he knew: the sister who would play sweet just before she struck. Except this time there had been no strike.

So Zuko had slipped away from his guard and snuck into her cabin when he knew her to be busy on deck. A part of him hadn't even expected to find much. He couldn't think of a good reason for her to lie, not about his banishment, but then he had found the posters.

The colour drained from his cheeks as he looked at a hand-drawn image of his own face: scarred, far too recognisable, and with a bounty listed for his capture on the right. On the lower half of the poster was an equally recognisable drawing of his uncle. Both of them had been listed as traitors. Zuko's hands trembled.

_"Are you saying you've missed me?"_

_"Of course. We're family, aren't we?"_

His throat constricted and the trembling in his hands got worse. Rage and hurt splintered through him, but it was rage that won.

"Azula," he growled, crushing the poster in his fist.

He stormed out of the cabin, pushing past anyone who got in his path as he made his way back to the deck where he had last seen his sister. She was giving some orders to her men, but he simply shoved them aside.

"You lied to me!" he shouted.

Azula rolled her eyes as if he were nothing more than a small child throwing a tantrum. "What are you talking about?"

He thrust the poster in her face.

"I see." A smile curved her lips. "Well, I guess you found me out."

An inhuman snarl escaped his throat. Fire streamed from his hands and crafted into twin daggers, burning right through the poster. Suddenly, he lunged for his sister, slashing wildly at her face—anything to wipe the smile off her mouth and ease the gnawing ache of betrayal in his chest. She dodged his blows again and again, not once bothering to retaliate with an attack of her own. It was an insult to his bending and they both knew it.

His eyes narrowed and he struck out with a ferocious slice to her left, hoping to catch her off guard. Azula caught his wrist and spun him around, twisting his arm up against his back and pulling him hard to her chest. Zuko froze, breathing heavily as he found himself trapped.

"You know, Father blames Uncle for the loss at the North Pole," she hissed into his ear, "and he considers you a miserable failure for not finding the Avatar." Her voice dug into him like knives. "Why would he want you back home except to lock you up where you can no longer embarrass him?"

Zuko screamed in anger and lashed out with his free hand, forcing her to release her hold. He followed quickly with a flaming hook kick. The fire licked a little too close to her skin. She straightened from her crouch and her lips twisted into an ugly expression. The next second he was stumbling backwards, blood dripping down his forehead where her nails had snagged—an inverted echo of the caress she had given him when he'd first woken on her ship. For a moment they just glared at each other. Then the fire daggers were back in his hands and he lunged for her again, determined to make her feel his pain, determined to make her see how much she liked it when her family turned on her.

"Come on, Brother." Azula laughed as she slipped away from his attacks with agile ease. "You're going to have to do better than that!"

He responded by bringing both daggers around in a ruthless strike to her chest. Azula side-stepped and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him sprawling in a heap of bruised limbs to the ground. Smoke curled free of his mouth. With a strangled yell, he charged for her again, flames trailing from his hands. Her lips curved. She raised her hand and then all he saw was blue fire. It was so hot, so fast. Zuko didn't have time to think. He bent back as far as his spine would allow and managed to avoid the fireball. The moment he straightened, a wave of heat mixed with pure elemental force struck him in his stomach. All the air whooshed from him. He hit the ship railing, still struggling to breathe and blinking away fuzzy spots from his eyes.

"Oh, did that hurt?" she taunted.

Dazedly, he tried to regain his balance. The difference in their skill was humiliating clear, but even then he couldn't give up. He just couldn't.

Azula stepped into his line of vision. He saw that same sharp little smile lift the corners of her mouth. She poised the fingers of her right hand like a blade and moved her arms in a circular motion, blue streaks crackling and arcing around her. Zuko's heart gave an odd lurch in his chest. Then she pointed her fingers at him. Lightning surged free, moving in a flash of sapphire for his heart.

_No!_

It was a scream in his mind. He desperately tried to throw himself out of the way, but his limbs were still shaky from her last attack. That was when the lightning struck. It collided with his shoulder in an explosion of agony, sending shockwaves of white-hot energy throughout his body. He cried out from the intensity. It felt like an electrified fist had closed around his heart, squeezing tightly and slowing the life-giving beat right down. Dimly, he realised that he was falling—not to the ground, but over the railing and towards the ocean.

The last thing he remembered was the feeling of flames swallowing him whole.

oOo

Azula stared at the space where her brother had stood only moments ago. One of the guards who had watched the fight stepped forward.

"Princess Azula, would you like us to begin a search? Prince Zuko can't have got too far after, well …" He trailed off and cast her a nervous glance.

Azula's eyes hardened as his unspoken words whispered between them: because she had hit Zuko with the most lethal of firebending techniques. "Don't bother," she said, turning to face the man. "Even if my brother managed to survive the lightning, he'd be little more than a corpse now."

The guard bowed and fell back into line with the others. Azula shifted her gaze to the expanse of storm-tossed blue. A faint crease formed on her brow. Once, she had seen cuts that bled in rivulets of red disappear from her brother's body right before her eyes. She had seen bruises fade and watched him recover from injuries that should have paralysed any other child, even killed. But she knew there could be no miracle recovery this time. Whatever the strangeness of her brother's inner fire, the lightning had struck true. If that didn't stop his heart, the ocean was sure to finish the job.

Her jaw clenched. "Send a message to my father," she ordered the guard.

"What should I tell him?"

Azula met his gaze coolly. "Tell him that Prince Zuko is dead."


	2. A Life in Fragments

The sun was just beginning to set when Aang decided it was time to call it a day and find a place to camp. They were all hungry and tired, and he was reluctant to push Appa any further with Omashu still so far away. A brief squabble ensued upon landing about who would do what chore, but eventually it was decided that Aang and Momo would collect the firewood, Katara would put up the tent, and Sokka would gather food for their evening meal. Appa, having done his duty, sprawled on the ground and closed his eyes.

"Get some rest, boy," Aang said, patting his head.

Appa gave a content rumble and rolled onto his back, clearly asking for a belly scratch. Laughing, Aang performed this service and then headed off into the trees. Momo darted ahead in a streak of white fur. After everything that had happened, Aang found it comforting to meander through the woods, just listening to the rustling leaves and the occasional bird calling to its friends. It was the kind of tranquillity one could only find when at peace with nature, and he had missed that. Of course, the stillness was soon disturbed as Momo discovered a particularly juicy bug and started chirruping excitedly.

"We're looking for firewood, Momo. Not bugs," Aang scolded, though the amusement in his eyes belied his chiding tone.

Momo held up the half-bitten bug in offering, as if to say that Aang could have some too.

"No, thanks." Aang scrunched his face. "I think I'll just stick with whatever vegetarian-friendly food Sokka manages to find." He rubbed his gurgling stomach. Hopefully, it would be more than a collection of nut-shaped rocks.

Momo finished the last of his snack and scuttled ahead to pick up the smaller pieces of wood littering the forest floor so that they could start the fire. Aang focussed on gathering the larger branches. Between the two of them, it didn't take long to collect a decent stack of firewood, though it was true the lemur seemed more interested in the bugs he found underneath the fallen bits of timber.

"I think this should be enough," Aang said, clutching the stack to his chest. "Let's head back."

Momo chirruped and took off into the air with his own bundle. Aang had only taken a few steps when pain surged through his chest, squeezing at his vital organs and filling him with a deadly coldness. Gasping, he collapsed to his knees and barely noticed the firewood tumbling from his slackened hold. Everything felt as if it were twisting and writhing inside of him, making him dizzy and his throat burn with the taste of rising bile; however, it was the numbing emptiness spreading through him that frightened him most. The buried warmth he had come to see as a part of himself was slipping away, like frayed threads unravelling with the slightest tug. He closed his eyes, curling into himself as if he could somehow keep the warmth locked inside his body. It didn't help.

A concerned chirrup told him that Momo was beside him. He felt a small paw touch his arm. Aang just breathed in and out, not even caring that dirt was getting into his mouth from where he had pressed his face against the ground. It hurt so much, but the pain was more than physical. It reached deep into his spirit, into his very soul. He clutched his arms tighter around his stomach, feeling the sting of unshed tears burn his eyes.

"Zuko," he managed to choke out in a whisper. "What's happening to you?"

There was no one to give him an answer, but Aang knew in his heart that something had gone wrong. Whatever had happened, it was bad. Really bad. The strain on their bond had never felt as intense as this before, never so crippling.

Momo squeaked in distress and tugged at Aang's cape, trying to pull him back to his feet. When this failed, Momo took off into the air and flew back towards camp, no doubt to get help. Not that Aang noticed. He was desperately trying to keep those fiery threads from escaping his grasp, desperately trying to stop that invisible hand from reaching any further inside of him to snatch away the link. Somehow, he knew that Zuko would die if that happened.

_Come on, Zuko!_ Aang inwardly pleaded, clutching a hand to his aching heart. _You have to fight this. I don't know what's happened, but you can't just give up. Please! Please, keep fighting!"_

For a moment he almost thought he caught a glimpse of the other boy: a whisper of water, lightning and pain. Then the images faded and Aang was back on the forest floor, curled up on the dirt as his body trembled from the effects of their fragmenting bond. He was still pleading for Zuko not to give up when the agony became too much and he slipped into unconsciousness.

oOo

Pain. That was the only thing that existed in that moment. Pain and fire.

Zuko knew that he should be dead. He'd fallen. Fallen so very far, even as his body convulsed with the shocks of energy ripping through his limbs and vital organs. For a moment his heartbeat had stopped, but then the flames had burst free from deep inside of him, spreading through his chi paths, and somehow he had continued to breathe. Somehow, his heart had found a new rhythm—one that was fragile and small, but still pulsed with life. Now, with no energy to move, he just floated, cradled by the watery hands of the ocean as he struggled to stay conscious. To stay alive.

He didn't know how long it had been since he had lost sight of Azula's ship, but he was just beginning to sink again when his hand made contact with something hard. Instinct made him wrap his fingers around the obstruction, feeling the rough texture of wood—wood that had been doused with wave after wave, yet had still somehow managed to stay roped together.

_My raft._

The thought was like a sigh of relief in his mind. With an effort, he opened his eyes and blinked past the splashes of orange painting the sky to look at what was left of his boat. There was a jagged piece of timber sticking up from the middle where the mast had snapped, but otherwise it was mostly intact. Either way, the floating bits of wood would stop him from drowning.

Gritting his teeth, Zuko slowly dragged himself up onto the raft, conscious of each painful motion that it took to get his body out of the water. Black dots swarmed his vision, almost blinding him with a rush of nausea. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. He suddenly found himself on all fours and vomiting as the full force of his efforts struck home. It was too much. All of this was too much. Acid choked and burned his throat, but at last the heaving stopped and Zuko collapsed onto his side, not even caring that there was vomit stuck to his cheek or that his face was just inches from the rest of the foul-smelling pool.

_Breathe,_ he told himself. _Just breathe._

So he did, in and out, in and out, just like when he meditated. Slowly, his shaking limbs began to calm, though his heart continued to flutter in his chest like the broken wings of a sparrowkeet. Too exhausted to do anything more, Zuko rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, feeling the fire rippling through his veins ignite with renewed power.

It seemed like hours that he drifted along with the current, helpless and just barely clinging to life. Sometimes, he wished it would end, that the water surrounding him would turn violent as it had the night before and drag him down to oblivion. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with the pain. At least then he would be able to forget.

_"You know, Father blames Uncle for the loss at the North Pole, and he considers you a miserable failure for not finding the Avatar. Why would he want you back home except to lock you up where you can no longer embarrass him?"_

Zuko shied away from the memory, inadvertently reaching for the flames that were spinning tendrils of heat around his consciousness. Somehow, he sensed that Azula and her lies couldn't exist in the inferno—that fear and anguish were just words with no real significance when compared to the golden flickers of his inner fire. Yet the ache he felt because of his sister's betrayal still festered under his skin like a cyst waiting to burst. Even the physical effect of his injuries was nothing compared to that soul-crushing pain

_Too much,_ a small voice repeated in his mind.

Yes, it was too much. Too much on what had already seemed like too much for him to endure. His spirit and mind felt so battered and bruised, like it was willpower alone that was holding the fraying pieces of his identity together. By the time the raft came to a halt, banking itself on an unfamiliar shore, there was only one clear thought in his mind: he had to get away. He had to survive.

With trembling fingers, Zuko removed the dagger from his boot, grabbed the longer strands of hair he always kept pulled back, and sliced through the lot. The black strands fell into the water, glowing with the silver hues of the moon before being carried away with the tide. His hands were still shaking as he sheathed the blade. Then he set about removing every scrap of clothing from his body that could pinpoint him as Fire Nation. Soon, he was just wearing the grey pants and matching tunic that served as an underlay for most firebending armour. He would have liked to have kept the boots, but together the combination was too obviously Fire Nation.

His chest tightened as the significance of what he was doing struck him anew.

_I have to let it go._

Forcing the panicked voices battering against the walls of his mind into silence, he exhaled deeply and summoned a ball of fire to his hand. The flame was paler than usual and the effort to maintain the flow of energy seemed to wrench a new hole of pain inside him, but he still managed to burn through the pile of clothes until there was nothing left but ashes and the smell of singed material. Now it was done, but he felt no relief upon realising that the last of his outward ties to his home had been severed. Instead, his hands trembled even more violently and he had to close his eyes as his stomach twisted into knots. He wanted to vomit again.

_Too much_, that voice echoed in his mind.

Suddenly he was falling, collapsing face first on the ground as his limbs gave out from sheer exhaustion. It had probably not been a good idea to use his bending when he was still so damaged and weak, yet he could feel the fire continuing to burn in a tiny sun at the centre of his being, whispering of healing and comfort. His heart gave another uneven flutter in his chest. Zuko didn't pause to think, he just drove his consciousness deeper into the wall of flames, sensing that it was the only way to keep the fragile beat alive.

Down and down he went, feeling the inferno strip away all in its blazing heat until he reached the spark that thrummed with life at the core of his being. He pressed himself close to its warmth, letting it wrap around him in a fiery web until there was no separating the boy from the flames. Until he could feel the memories and pain slipping away to become no more than specks of dust on his canvas of thought.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there cradled in his cocoon of fire. Sometimes it felt like days, other times it felt like only seconds had passed. Eventually, though, he realised that he had to keep moving. There were hazy images flickering in his mind: flashes of people and places he knew he should recognise, but it all seemed such a blur. The only thing he knew for certain was the fear urging him forward—the need to put as much distance between himself and whatever it was that he had left behind.

Curling his fingers into the sand, he pushed himself back to his feet and stuffed the dagger into his tunic, along with the Pai Sho tile and water-logged scrap of parchment. His heart fluttered sickeningly in his chest, and he could still feel the fire simmering under his skin, but somehow he managed to half-stumble, half-crawl his way from the shore towards the nearby forest. It was a slow process, and more than once he fell, gasping and gritting his teeth against the shocks of agony that lingered in his body. A part of him just wanted to give up and surrender to the flames, which even now whispered for him to sink back into their calming warmth, but he knew that he could not stop. The fire might soothe his pain, but it could not protect him forever. It could not hold back the nightmare that haunted his scattered thoughts.

_Keep moving_, he told himself ruthlessly.

Like a blind thing he crawled, no longer able to find the energy to stand. The wound on his shoulder throbbed in ways he couldn't comprehend from the added pressure. He thought he might have fainted at some point, but somehow he managed to keep going. It was a relief when he felt the texture of the ground change to leaf-scattered dirt, telling him that he had at least got away from the shore. However, it was not long before even the sheer force of his will was not enough to keep his limbs in motion.

Breathing heavily, he collapsed on his back and stared up at the sky. Slivers of silver slipped through the canopy of trees. He didn't know if he would be safe in the forest. All he knew was that he could not move another inch. He had finally reached his limit.

He closed his eyes and prayed with all of his heart that he would wake when the sun touched the heavens. If nothing else could be done, then at least let him wake. At least let him live.

_I refuse to die like this._

It was his last thought. The flames were already reaching for him again, lulling him into unconsciousness while threads of fire worked their way through his chi paths. As the darkness closed in on his mind, somewhere out on the ocean a scattering of ash and black hair floated away into the night.

oOo

Several hours had passed since Momo had first rushed back to camp, flying in circles above Katara's head and chittering loudly. Even now, she could still remember the fear that had seized her heart when she had followed him into the trees and discovered Aang's crumpled form—a fear that had only increased once it became clear that whatever it was that was keeping Aang unconscious, the sickness was beyond her curative abilities.

Helpless and afraid, she had called for her brother and together they had carried Aang back to camp and settled him down on the blankets inside the tent. She had been so scared while she had sat beside him, just hoping that he would recover. She had never thought that she would be more worried when he awoke.

"Aang, you can't do this!" Sokka exclaimed, blocking his path. "I know you're upset, but just think about what you're trying to do."

"I can't just sit around and do nothing!" Aang shouted, clenching his hands into fists.

"We're already part of the way to Omashu. If you leave now—"

"I could feel him dying, Sokka! Do you have any idea what that was like for me? I could feel him dying and there was nothing I could do!" Aang bit his lip and his hands trembled slightly. "I don't even know if the bond is still intact. He could be dead and I wouldn't—I wouldn't even—"

Katara stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "It's okay, Aang," she said, holding him close. "It's okay."

Aang looked up at her with overly bright eyes. "You understand, right?"

She averted her face. "I do understand. I understand that you're scared and worried and want to know that the Blue Spirit is alright." She took in a breath, hesitating a moment. "But I also know that Sokka is right."

Aang broke free of her embrace. "How can you say that?"

"The Earth Kingdom is huge." She gave a helpless shrug. "I'm sorry, Aang, but even if you did sense that the Blue Spirit is near water, there's no saying that you would be able to find him. It could take days—weeks, even. Are you willing to risk that?"

"But—"

Sokka placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know it seems harsh, but we just don't have the time to go running around the Earth Kingdom in search of one guy. Maybe the Blue Spirit is hurt, but so are a lot of other people. I think it would be better if you just continued on to Omashu like we planned so you can learn earthbending."

Aang faced the other way, dislodging Sokka's grip. "You don't understand."

"You're wrong," Sokka said quietly. "How do you think Katara and I felt when we were given the chance to meet up with our dad? We hadn't seen him in two years, Aang. _Two years_. All that time we never knew if he was alive or well; we just had to hope and wait. Do you think it was easy for us to follow you to the North Pole instead?"

Aang lowered his head, still keeping his back to them.

"Think about it," Sokka advised.

He cast a frowning glance at Katara and then stalked back inside the tent, clearly having said his piece. Katara watched her brother leave, torn between wanting to follow to make sure he was okay or to stay and comfort Aang. Sokka had never spoken of that time they had almost gone with Bato to meet up with their dad; it had been his decision to rejoin Aang, and she had agreed because she had known it was the right thing to do. Only now did she realise how hard that choice must have been for Sokka. He had always been good at putting on a cheerful front.

Her gaze shifted back to Aang, who stood with his shoulders slumped and his face downcast. She closed her eyes. Speaking to Sokka would have to come later. Right now, Aang was the one who needed her most. She closed the distance between them and slipped her hand in his.

"It'll be okay, Aang," she said gently. "I'm sure the Blue Spirit is alive. You said yourself that he's a tough guy."

Aang continued to stare at the ground. "I don't want to abandon him."

"I know."

They were both silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry you never got to see your dad," Aang said in a small voice. "I didn't think—I mean, I guess I just—"

"It's okay. It's not your fault Dad left to fight in the war."

"I know, but—"

"Don't worry about it. Yes, it would have been nice to see our dad, but Sokka and I both knew that we couldn't leave you." She smiled and pulled him into a one-armed hug. "You're our family too, remember?"

His mouth twitched into an answering smile, if somewhat strained.

Katara looked up at the moon, seeing beyond the silver to the ships that had carried her father away. "Besides, I know we'll see our dad again, just like I know you'll meet up with the Blue Spirit."

He glanced up at her with hopeful eyes. "Do you really think so?"

She nodded. "Can't you feel it?"

Aang's shoulders drooped. "I already told you that I can't feel the bond anymore. I only get a sense of our connection when his life is in danger, but I passed out so—"

"I'm not talking about spiritual connections." She placed his hand against his chest, letting him feel the steady beat of his heart. "I mean in here. Can't you feel that he's alive?"

Aang was quiet for a moment. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I think I can."

The smile returned to her lips. "Then you don't have to worry."

He tightened his grip on her hand. "Thanks, Katara."

She nodded and gently disengaged herself from him. "I'm going to check on Sokka. You should probably eat something while you can. There's some fruit and nuts left for you in Appa's saddle."

Aang's stomach gave a loud gurgle. "You know what, some food sounds really good right now."

"Then go eat!" she ordered, laughing as she shooed him along with her hands.

Aang flashed her a grin and darted over to the saddle, which Momo and Appa had been resting beside. Katara stayed just long enough to hear Aang telling the lemur off for stealing some of his portion of the fruits before she turned and entered the tent. Her brother sat on the floor with a knife and a small piece of wood in his hands. The shavings scattered around him told her that he had been carving.

"Hey," he said in a flat voice.

She sat down opposite him. "What are you carving?"

"Dad's boat." He held up the lumpy piece of wood for her to see.

Katara bit her lip to stop from smiling. It looked more like a lopsided fish than a boat, but she wasn't going to say that.

Sokka continued chipping away at the piece of wood. "Is Aang still planning on going after the Blue Spirit?"

"No. I think he's realised it wouldn't be helping anyone if he did."

"Good."

"What about you?" she asked, watching him closely. "Are you okay?"

He sighed and placed the knife and crudely carved boat down on the blanket beside him. "I miss Dad," he admitted. "Don't get me wrong, I don't regret coming with Aang, but sometimes ... sometimes I wish we still could have gone to see Dad. You know what I mean?"

Katara did know. That was why she pulled him into a tight embrace and buried her face into his shoulder, seeking just as much comfort as she was trying to give. "I miss him too," she whispered.

His arms came around her, completing the hug, and for a moment they just held each other. Then Sokka broke away, looking awkward and rubbing the base of his neck. His eyes were suspiciously damp.

"Well, uh, I guess we should probably make sure we have enough supplies for tomorrow," he said, getting to his feet. "We've still got a while to go before we reach Omashu, and there's no saying what kind of food we'll be able to find between now and then."

Katara's mouth twitched into a smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Sokka."

"It's still better to be safe than sorry, and you know how much Momo eats. We could be starving before we know it!"

"Momo? What about you? With the way you stuff your face during every meal, you'd think that you were a flying bison like Appa and have five stomachs to fill."

Sokka straightened to his full height. "I am a warrior. Warriors need their food to keep up their strength."

Her smile widened. "Ah, of course. I must have forgotten."

Sokka gave her a narrowed look as if to say he was not impressed with her teasing. His sister was not repentant and recommended that he make sure to pack enough food to fill his five stomachs.

"Yeah, yeah," Sokka said, waving his hand dismissively. "You mock me now, but when we next meet the Angry Jerk, you'll be grateful for my warrior strength."

Some of the amusement died in her eyes. "I almost forgot."

"Mm?'

"Zuko. It's been three weeks since we last saw him. I just ... I guess I just forgot about him. There's been so much else going on."

"Don't let Aang hear you say that. He frets about Zuko just as much as he frets about the Blue Spirit. You'd think they were best buddies with the way Aang was carrying on when the Northern Water Tribe wouldn't let him into the prison to see the jerk." Sokka spun his finger around in the air beside his head. "Air Nomads: crazy, I tell you."

Katara's brow creased. It was a bit strange how protective Aang had become of Zuko. It also made her wonder what had happened to Zuko. They had been told he had escaped from the Northern Water Tribe, but then it was as if he had just vanished. Katara had to admit, it was kind of weird not having him appear every few days with a new plan to capture Aang. Not that she was missing his presence. They had enough on their plate without having to worry about running away from Prince Zuko as well.

But it did make her wonder.

oOo

Something was prodding at his side.

"Wake up," a female voice said. "Hey, come on now. I've brought you some soup."

Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Go away," he groaned, rolling out of her reach.

"You spoke! And here I was beginning to think you were mute."

He sat up on the bed and glowered at the girl standing beside him. She flashed him a smile and held out the bowl of broth. Clearly, she was not intimidated by his glare, or maybe she was just used to it. He didn't know. Her toothy grin and big brown eyes seemed familiar, and he was almost certain that she had given him food before, only—only he couldn't seem to recall meeting this girl, let alone her name.

His chest tightened and he looked around the small room to find something he recognised so that he could reorient himself. The bedroom was sparsely decorated and the furniture was of poor quality. He also noticed that most of the decor seemed to be in greens and browns. None of it was familiar.

"Hey," the girl said, noting the way the colour drained from his cheeks. "You okay? You're looking a bit pale."

"Where am I?" He looked at her with wide, anxious eyes. "Who are you?"

She laughed. "My name is Fei, and you're in my house, of course. Where else would you be?"

His chest tightened even more, making it difficult for him to breathe. He didn't remember coming to her house. Why couldn't he remember?

_Think._

A sharp stab of pain lanced through his mind and he clutched at his head with a gasp, quickly losing hold of the images that he had been trying to untangle. Spirits, that hurt.

Fei placed the bowl of soup down on the bedside table. "What's wrong? Should I get my mum?"

His brow creased. "Your mum?"

"She's a healer. She's been taking care of you for the past two days. Don't you remember?"

He swallowed. No, he did not remember.

"Hey! I just realised that you can tell me your name now!" Fei gave him another of her toothy grins. "I hope that you don't mind, but I've been calling you Lee. We weren't sure if you could talk, you see, and Gran seemed to think that you weren't all there in the head because you didn't respond to anything we said and wouldn't eat unless we fed you, so—" Pink suddenly spread all over her cheeks. "I'm sorry. That was pretty insensitive of me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the violent stabbing in his mind. Every word Fei spoke was only making the pain worse. True, some of the blanks were beginning to fill in now. He could indeed remember being fed soup by the chatty girl, as well as an older woman fussing over his wounds, but there were still so many things that didn't add up, like how he had got to this village in the first place. He touched a hand to his shoulder, feeling the bandage that covered—well, he didn't know what it covered, just that it hurt. And that was the problem. He didn't know. It was as if someone had entered his mind and stolen all of the important details, leaving him with just a fragment of his memories.

Fei peered at him with hopeful eyes. "So, are you going to tell me your name?"

"I—" He swallowed again. "I don't actually know..." he trailed off, dizzy with the realisation. What kind of person couldn't even recall his own name?

Fei must have noticed how faint he was feeling. "Easy there," she said, steadying him with her hands. "I guess you were more injured than we realised. Maybe you hit your head?"

He shrugged. Maybe.

She pursed her lips. "I'll get Mum to have a look at you. Maybe she'll be able to figure out what's wrong. In the mean time, I guess I'll stick with calling you Lee." A laugh shook her frame. "Wouldn't it be funny if that really was your name?"

"Yeah," he said flatly. "Hilarious."

A smile twinkled in her eyes. "Don't worry, Lee. We'll get your memory back in no time." She paused and rubbed her chin in thought. "Now that I think about it, I do have something that might help."

He watched as she opened the drawer to the dresser and pulled out a sheathed dagger, something that might have been a Pai Sho tile, and a scraggly piece of parchment. "What are those?" he asked.

"We found them hidden in your tunic when the old traveller first brought you to us." She placed them on the bed. "Maybe they'll help you remember something."

Lee, as he was resigning himself to being called, picked up the wooden counter and examined both of its sides. It just looked like an ordinary white lotus tile to him. He dismissed it with disgust. Next was the parchment, which he was excited to see had something written on it. The characters had blurred together and were slightly faded, but he was still able to make out the words.

"Follow the path of the ancient ways and you will find what you are seeking," he read aloud. "If you are wise, you will not return to this place again."

"Do you know what it means?" Fei asked, looking at him curiously.

He shook his head, trying to hold back the frustrated scream that was clawing at his throat. Fei looked disappointed, but she brightened a second later.

"Well, what about the dagger?" she suggested, pushing the knife towards him. "Maybe that will strike a chord."

Lee sighed and closed his fingers around the hilt. Immediately, a sense of recognition swept through him. He had held this knife before.

"What?" Fei exclaimed, catching sight of his expression. "What is it?"

"I know this dagger," he said in a hoarse voice. "This ... this was mine."

Trembling slightly, he pulled the blade free of the sheath and saw the words etched onto the metal. On one side it said that the dagger had been made in the Earth Kingdom, but it was the other inscription that interested him. "Never give up without a fight," he whispered, closing his eyes.

The words were so familiar, as if he had said them over and over to himself until they had become ingrained in his mind. Somehow, he knew that this dagger had been important to him, that he must have stared at it for hours to even memorise the engraving. What he didn't understand was why. What had made this dagger so special? He tried to sort through his fragmented memories, pushing past the blanks to connect the pieces. For a moment he thought he almost had something: a whisper of a man with grey hair and warm reddish-brown eyes, but then another stab of pain lanced through his mind and the image was gone. Still, the flash of insight had been enough to help him solve one mystery.

"A gift," he murmured, tightening his fingers on the hilt. "It was a gift."

"What?"

Lee opened his eyes and saw Fei wrinkling her brow at him. "The dagger," he explained. "It was a gift from someone close to me."

She clapped her hands together. "You remembered something!"

He looked back at the knife he was holding. Yes, he had remembered something, and like the ripples spreading from a single pebble, he was beginning to catch flashes of other things too. A streak of lightning. A storm-tossed ocean. Fire. Betrayal. Pain. The images were terrifying and confusing, but they were also coming too fast, slicing through his tender mind like a hundred knives. He couldn't handle the onslaught and soon there were black dots swarming before his eyes.

"Lee!"

Hands gripped his arms. Only then did he realise that he was shaking. He went still almost instantly and stared at Fei, his face chalk-white.

"I don't think you should be trying to force your memories right now," she said, looking rather pale herself.

"Yeah," Lee agreed in a faint voice. "Probably not a good idea." His head was still throbbing from the rush of images.

"I'm going to go get my mum, okay?"

He nodded.

Fei gestured to the bowl of broth. "Try to eat some soup. It might make you feel better."

Without waiting for his response, she stood up from the bed and left the room. Lee sighed and ran a trembling hand over his face. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew that he didn't like it. The scariest part, however, was that he wasn't certain if he even wanted to remember what had happened to him.

His fingertips brushed against the scarred flesh that skewed the left side of his face. "Fire," he whispered.

That was all his past had seemed to be: fire and pain. Why would he want to remember that?

_"Because that's who you are,"_ a woman's voice spoke in his mind. _"Someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard."_

Lee squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know why hearing that voice made him want to cry. Somehow, that was the most heartbreaking realisation of all.

oOo

Two days had passed since Lee had first come to his senses, or so Qiao, Fei's grandmother, had liked to call his return to cognitive awareness. Before that, it seemed that he had done nothing but stare blankly unless someone forced him to move. It was no wonder that they had thought him mute. He hadn't spoken once.

Lee didn't like to think about those days. It was shameful to consider how much of a wreck he had been, and he didn't like the fact that there were so many holes in his memories. He could now remember the old man who had brought him to the village, but he couldn't remember where the old man had found him or any of the time that they had travelled together. He knew that he had been injured on his right shoulder, but he didn't remember how or why. Then there were the other memories, the ones that made his head hurt with just the slightest touch.

Fei's mother said that he had mostly likely gone into shock: whatever had happened to him had been so painful that his mind had blocked it out, like a self-defence mechanism. That wasn't exactly reassuring to Lee, who was still trying to piece together his fragmented past. It didn't help that the only facts he had managed to ascertain for certain were that he had been running from something and that it was probably a good thing that no one knew his real name.

Fei tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Lee. Care to share your thoughts? You're being awfully quiet."

Lee was about to respond when he spotted a blue mask nestled on the back shelf of one of the trader's stalls. His body stilled and his heart sped up. Images flashed through his mind: a figure in black leaping over rooftops, a mask glinting from within the shadows, and then the steel dance of dual dao swords slicing through a ring of enemies.

"Lee?"

He shook his head and moved towards the trader. "How much for that blue mask?"

"Two copper pieces."

Lee felt within the pockets of his borrowed clothes and pulled out the copper pieces Qiao had given him for chopping firewood. Money and mask were exchanged. Lee and Fei continued walking down the market street.

"Why'd you get that mask?" she asked curiously.

"It just felt right," he said with a shrug.

She pursed her lips. "If you say so."

Lee chose to ignore her remark. He knew that Fei found him a bit odd at times. He also didn't care. To him, she was just as odd, not to mention talked far too much. Still, her family had taken him in when he had been injured and could barely string two words together. He had to be grateful for that.

They had just finished collecting the groceries and were heading back to her house when they saw the Fire Nation soldiers coming from the opposite direction. Lee didn't pay much attention to them at first, but his head pulsed when he saw one stop and set fire to the closest market stall. The rest of the group just laughed.

"Oh, no," Fei murmured, stopping in her tracks. "Poor Cai. He loves his cabbages so much too."

A crease formed on Lee's brow. "Why isn't anyone doing anything to help? They're all just standing there watching."

"What can we do?" Fei gave him a helpless look. "There aren't any benders left in this town, and the Fire Nation doesn't exactly tolerate disobedience. Look at what they did to Cai's cabbages, and that was just because he didn't have enough money to pay their stupid taxes."

Lee's head was throbbing now. This wasn't right. None of this was right.

"Come on," she said, tugging at his arm. "We'd better go. They'll start harassing us soon."

But Lee wasn't listening. He had just spotted a pair of dual dao swords hanging on display on the wall of the blacksmith's workshop. Without a word, he shoved the pot of vegetables he had been holding at Fei and then slipped the mask over his face.

"Lee, what are you—"

Her voice faded as he ran, moving with an instinctive agility that had him half-running along the side of the wall as he snatched the blades from the display and headed for the group of firebenders. Dimly, he could hear the blacksmith yelling at him, but he ignored that too. His heart was pounding with adrenaline and for once everything made sense. For once, he didn't feel like he was wearing someone else's skin.

More shouts followed him, attracting the attention of the firebenders. They moved into formation even while the cabbage merchant continued to bemoan the fate of his prized vegetables. It was four against one, but Lee wasn't afraid. He was calm. Almost happy. This was what he was used to. This was natural. So he didn't think to question why his mind told him to duck; he just did it, allowing him to slide right under the stream of fire that had been blasted his way. It was a pleasure to see the slack-jawed expressions on the firebenders' faces, but he didn't pause to savour the moment. Instead, he lunged forward in a flurry of steel, knocking down one of the soldiers with a sharp thrust to the side and then swinging around to deflect an oncoming fireball with the flat of his blades.

The firebender closest to him let out a growl and charged. In a display of rare grace, Lee dropped to one knee and brought the hilts of his blades up into the man's chin, knocking him clean off his feet. Without pausing, Lee closed the distance between himself and the remaining two firebenders, drawing them in like a vortex with his swords even as he deflected and dodged their blows. It was as if he could sense their every move, as if every shift of their feet and every slight adjustment to their arms allowed him to know what firebending kata they would use next. It wasn't long before he had incapacitated the opponent on his left, though he was careful not to aim to kill.

As the man fell to join the other wounded soldiers, Lee readied his swords in an offensive stance, already preparing for the next attack.

"W-who are you?" the last firebender stammered, taking a step backwards.

Lee's mouth curved into a smile behind his mask. "You can call me the Blue Spirit."


	3. Decisions and Rumours

No one moved. Lee could feel the other people in the market watching him, feel their stunned gazes crawling all over his skin, but the adrenaline was still coursing through his veins and he couldn't bring himself to care what they thought in that moment. There were four unconscious firebenders at his feet and it was he who had brought them down, he who had dodged and deflected their attacks like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it had been. Because he knew that he had done this before.

He stared at the swords in his hands, feeling a sense of kinship with the twin blades. Yes, this was right. This was him. Even now, he could still hear the song of steel ringing in his ears, whispering of past battles and the deadly dance he had performed over and over with nothing but two swords and the shadows to protect him.

_I am the Blue Spirit._

Lee could have laughed with relief. It was as if a piece of the puzzle had at last fallen into place and now he could see the beginnings of the final image. He finally had something onto which he could hold. He had an identity that was concrete and, even better, it was all his. True, the fact that he had been a masked warrior hiding behind an alias did unsettle him for the implications that went with needing such secrecy, but it was something. He was no longer Lee the unknown; he was Lee the Blue Spirit.

Footsteps sounded from behind him. He whirled around and brought his swords up to attack, only to pause when he saw Fei staring at him with wide brown eyes. What little colour left in her cheeks drained away and she swallowed as her gaze flickered from him to the blood-stained metal pressing against her neck. Slowly, he lowered the blades from her throat.

"Lee?"

Her voice was small. Nervous.

Wordlessly, he brought the dao swords together to form one weapon and walked past her, knowing that she would follow if she still wanted anything to do with him. It was obvious that he had shaken her. The townspeople who had been standing in the market square hurried to move out of his way, but he could also hear their murmurs echoing around him like a swarm of buzzard-wasps. So much for good intentions.

Gritting his teeth, he ignored the sounds of their curiosity and distrust and stopped in front of the blacksmith's workshop. The smithy paled behind the mass of dark hair that obscured most of his face, his eyes widening.

"Sorry for the blood," Lee said flatly, placing the dual blades on the counter.

He turned to leave, not wanting to linger in the market with so many people scrutinising him. The smell of fear, however awed, was pungent in his nostrils, and he knew that wariness wasn't being directed towards the incapacitated firebenders. Besides, the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that someone would figure out he was the same boy who had been walking with Fei. Nothing good could come from that. It was best just to go.

"Wait!"

Lee glanced over his shoulder at the blacksmith, his head tilted slightly in question. Some of the ruddiness had returned to the man's face and his mouth was set with determination. The blacksmith grabbed the scabbard that had been hanging on the display wall and then pushed it, along with the broadswords, towards Lee. "Keep them," he said. "I know you'll put these blades to better use than any customer who could afford to purchase them from my shop, sword master."

Lee's eyes widened a fraction. He bowed in thanks and accepted the swords, which he cleaned, sheathed and slung over his shoulder. He could not reject such a gift, not when he knew how much he needed the weapons. He turned to find Fei hovering at his elbow, looking pale but resolved.

"Lee," she said again, squaring her shoulders in a way that told him he was about to be bombarded with a lot of questions.

"Not here," he hissed, grabbing her by the arm and leading her away from the group of listening traders and shoppers.

She squeaked and tried to slip free of his grip. Lee stopped and glared at her through the slits of his mask. He pulled her closer so that no one else would be able to hear his words.

"Look, do you want your answers or not?" he growled in her ear.

"Yes, but—"

"Then meet me back at your house. We'll talk then."

She glanced up at him. "Why can't we just walk back together?"

"Because anyone who cared to pay attention would remember that you had come to the market with a boy and will easily be able to put the two together if they see me leaving with you." He cast a wary glance around the marketplace. "Just talking to you now is putting us both at risk. Damn it. I should have thought of this sooner."

He froze as he caught sight of the trader who had sold him the mask and for a moment they just stared at each other. Lee's stomach twisted with unease. The trader had seen his face, had seen him buy the mask. What should he do now?

The old man did not break eye contact and simply nodded. A breath escaped Lee's lips. It seemed as if the trader was saying that he would keep the secret. Lee would have liked to have got concrete proof, but there wasn't time for that now. There were too many people, too many ears listening. He had to get out of here, not just for his own protection, but for every person who knew what he looked like under the mask. The old fear was returning, reminding him that he had been found half-dead and stranded in this town for a reason.

Fei gripped his wrist. "Lee, just tell me—"

"At the house," he said firmly.

He released her on the words and sprinted in the opposite direction, purposely pushing through the crowd to draw their attention away from Fei. The gasps and shouts told him that his plan was working. He didn't let the noise distract him. Instead, he increased his speed and jumped onto the wooden crate near the tavern, using the momentum to propel his body upwards. His fingers closed on the rim of the roof and he flipped up with one hand, landing in a half-crouch on the tiles. A twinge passed through his right shoulder. Lee ignored the pain and shot back to his feet, making a running leap for the neighbouring building.

_Don't let anyone follow_, his mind chanted. _The Blue Spirit comes like a shadow and will leave like a shadow. He always makes a clean escape._

Lee's jaw clenched as he made the next jump, letting instinct take over to guide his feet. The townspeople's shouts and exclamations reverberated around him, but they were nothing to him in that moment. He was alive with the pounding of his heart and the familiar exhilaration that surged through him with every gravity-defying leap. No one could catch him up here. He was as swift and silent as the shadows. He was the Blue Spirit.

But he was also a boy with a scar on his face. It was that which had him increasing his speed, determined to make the market goers believe that he had left the town for good. Because someone had caught him once. The knowledge pulsed in every painful throb of his mind, hissing of danger. Someone had hurt him, could even now be hunting him. He would not, could not, let Fei and her family get caught up in that too.

He had to warn them. He had to run.

oOo

The sun was setting when Lee arrived back at the house, tired but otherwise unharmed. After leaving the town and bundling the mask and swords in his outer-robe, it had been easy enough for him to circuit back around to meet up with Fei at her home, though it had taken much longer. Of course, he knew that his ruse was not foolproof, but it would at least buy him some time.

"You came back!" Fei exclaimed, standing up from where she'd been sitting on the doorstep and taking an impulsive step towards him.

Lee raised his good eyebrow. "You thought I wouldn't?"

She had the grace to blush. "I don't know. After everything that happened, I guess I just"—the colour darkened on her cheeks and she lowered her gaze—"well, I guess I just don't really know what to think of you anymore."

"Right." His jaw tightened. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not the weak little nobody you thought I was."

"No!" She gripped his arm, stopping him from walking away. "That's not what I meant. I just—you just surprised me, that's all." A smile curved her lips. "I spent two days feeding you soup because you could barely lift your own spoon. I wasn't exactly expecting you to turn out to be some master swordsman who can take down four firebenders by himself."

Some of the anger faded from his eyes. "It was a mistake to attack those soldiers." He averted his face. "I've just made things worse for everyone."

"Why would you say that? Sure, it was scary to watch, but what you did was amazing!"

"No, it was reckless and stupid." He placed the bundle down and sat on the step, placing his head in his hands. "I don't know who I am, Fei. I don't know what I've been running from or how I got injured. That should have been enough to make me cautious, but seeing those men burn that stall just felt so wrong. I ... I couldn't stand there and watch it happen."

"So, what's the problem?"

He lifted his hands away to meet her gaze. "You asked me earlier why I bought that mask."

She nodded.

"It's because I used to wear one just like that. I was the Blue Spirit."

"Who?"

"The Blue Spirit," he repeated. "It's a character from a popular theatre show. I must have taken on the alias to protect my real identity, but don't you see? I just blew my cover in the worst way possible. The trader who sold me the mask knows what I look like. Maybe there are some other people in the market who will be able to figure out the connection as well, and then there's you and your family."

She planted her hands on her hips. "Hey, my family and I are not blabbermouths! Just what are you accusing us of?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything! I'm trying to tell you that you're in danger now because of me!"

Fei's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

Lee sighed and ran a hand through the short, uneven strands of hair that covered his head. "Think about it, Fei. I took down four firebenders. You can't tell me they were the only ones occupying the town. More will come, and they will want to know who I am. All it would take is for one person to give a hint, just a hint, that the Blue Spirit is the same boy who's been staying with your family and then the Fire Nation soldiers will come here to investigate. You and I both know what that would mean."

Her cheeks paled, but she held her head high. "Well, then you can just drive them away again with your swords."

Lee shook his head. "I can't stay here. It will only make things worse. At least if I'm gone they can't punish you for harbouring the Blue Spirit if the truth gets out."

"You're just going to leave?" she asked in a small voice. "Just like that?"

"I have to." He stared at the bundle where the mask and swords lay hidden. "I'll admit that maybe at first I wasn't sure if I wanted to remember my past, but now I know I have to find out the truth. I have to know how I got like this."

She sat next to him and clasped his forearm. "But, Lee, don't you think it would be more dangerous to leave when your memory still hasn't returned? What if you run into the people who hurt you and you don't even know it?"

He shifted away from her touch. "That's why I have to go. Try to understand, I don't know if I was running because I'm the Blue Spirit and got injured or if there is something about my real identity that somehow put me in danger. If I stay here, I might never know what really happened, but if I leave I have a chance of discovering the truth."

"But—"

"I don't want to live my life in fear, Fei. I'd rather die trying to regain my memories than spend every day wondering if someone is going to recognise me, yet not even knowing why I should be afraid, let alone if it's the mask or the face underneath that should be my main concern."

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "I can see now why you held onto that dagger."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You really don't give up without a fight, do you?"

An image flickered in his mind of a woman with amber eyes and long, dark hair. Suddenly, he could hear the words—her words—echoing in his mind once again:

_"Because that's who you are. Someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard."_

Lee closed his eyes, conscious of the way his heart clenched with a pain he did not understand. "No," he said softly. "I don't think I do."

They were both silent for a moment. Fei tucked her legs up against her chest and rested her chin on her knees, staring out into the distance. He couldn't help but note that she looked unhappy.

"I guess you'll be leaving soon then, huh?" she observed, still not looking at him.

"It's better this way. The longer I stay here, the more dangerous it will be for everyone."

"Where will you go?"

Lee thought for a moment. "I'm going to try find what I was looking for."

"Huh?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scrap of parchment. "This isn't my handwriting; I know because I checked. Someone must have written this message for me, which means that I was searching for something before I lost my memories. Maybe if I follow the path of the ancient ways like the note says, I'll be able to discover something or someone to help me."

"You know what it means?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I can't try. There has to be information about the path of the ancient ways somewhere. At least it would be a start."

She exhaled in a loud puff of breath and stood up. "Come on then."

He looked at her questioningly.

Fei's toothy grin came into play. "You didn't think you'd be able to leave without saying goodbye to Gran and Mum, did you? Besides, they might have some advice for where you should go next."

His brow furrowed. "You think so?"

"Don't know, but there's only one way to find out."

Lee nodded and gathered up the bundle containing his Blue Spirit disguise, then followed her inside the house to where Fei's mother and Qiao were preparing some kind of herbal concoction. It didn't take long for the teens to explain the situation. While both women were stunned to discover that their guest had managed to defeat four firebenders with a pair of dao swords, Lee was relieved to note that there was no fear in their eyes. He would never admit it aloud, but it bothered him how wary most of the townspeople had become after the fight. He had only been trying to help, but instead they had thrown it back in his face and acted like he was going to attack them next. It was nice to know that Fei's family still trusted him.

"So, you're planning on leaving us, boy," Qiao said, folding her arms.

Lee nodded. "I think it's for the best."

"Well, I always knew you were different, but I never expected you'd turn out to be some masked vigilante."

"To be fair," Fei's mother pointed out, "I don't think he did either."

Lee rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Anyway, I—"

"We wanted to know if you had any idea where he could begin his search," Fei interrupted. "He thinks if he learns more about the path of the ancient ways that he might be able to find something to help him regain his memories."

Lee narrowed his eyes. "I was just about to say that."

Qiao tapped a gnarled finger to her chin. "Well, I don't know about any ancient ways, but it couldn't hurt to try your luck at Omashu. The city is not far from here and I've heard they have a library filled with scrolls about the Earth Kingdom and its history. Either way, Omashu is a big place and sees many travellers come and go. Even if you don't find the information you need, there's a chance you might run into someone who will be able to help you regain your memories."

"I guess it's worth a shot," Lee agreed. "I have to begin somewhere, and Omashu is as good as any other place."

"You just be careful while you're out there searching," Fei's mother said in a grim voice. "The Fire Nation isn't going to forget what you've done, and you admitted yourself that you're uncertain whether it's this Blue Spirit alias of yours that originally put you in danger or if it was something about your real identity. That's a lot of risks you're taking, Lee."

He lowered his gaze to the floor, knowing this to be true. He also knew, however, that he had no choice.

Qiao placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you want my advice, you'd do well to keep that mask on while you're travelling. Better to have people chasing a shadow than to track your real self, especially with that scar of yours."

Lee touched a hand to his left cheek. She was probably right. His scar was large and far too memorable. There was no saying who might recognise the description of his face, and that was something he didn't want to risk when he still knew so little about the boy with the scar. Much better to stick to the Blue Spirit.

"I understand," he said.

"Good."

Fei's mother smiled sadly at him. "I suppose you'll need supplies for your journey."

Lee's face warmed. He'd seen for himself that the family was not affluent. "No, really," he said awkwardly. "I'll be fine. I'm sure I can—"

"Please," she interjected. "I'll feel much more secure knowing that you didn't leave my home destitute."

Swallowing his pride, he bowed and placed his right fist just below his left hand, which he kept open and pointed upward. "Thank you."

As he straightened to his full height, he saw Qiao giving him an odd look, but the old woman said nothing. Lee dismissed the matter and instead focussed on helping Fei's mother pack some provisions for him. Food, money and a flask of water were tucked inside the bag, then she led him into the other room where she and her daughter slept.

"We're lucky my husband's clothes fit you so well," she said, placing a clean set of garments inside the bag. "You can keep the boots I lent you, but I'm afraid we don't have any others to spare. You'll have to make those ones last."

Lee shifted uncomfortably. He'd been told that Fei's father had gone to fight in the war; however, it had been five years since the family had last heard anything. It seemed wrong to take the soldier's clothes now, but Lee knew that he didn't have much of a choice. His own clothes had been torn and bloody and he hadn't even been wearing any footwear.

"The one pair will do fine," he said. "I mean to travel light, anyway. But, uh, thank you."

A smile flittered across her face. "You're not used to accepting things from people, are you?"

He shrugged. Maybe.

"Well, I guess that's a good sign," she continued. "Means you can take care of yourself." She handed him the bag. "Either way, I hope this will help to make your journey easier."

Lee took the pack and slung it over his shoulder. He was careful not to let it obstruct the access he had to his swords, which he'd also strapped to his back. Mumbling another thank you, he turned to leave.

"Lee."

He paused. "Yes?"

"Be safe."

The corners of his mouth lifted. "I will."

He left the room and picked up the blue mask from the table in the living area, then said his goodbyes to Qiao and Fei. It was time to go. As he exited the house, he was conscious of footsteps following him. The light tread told him it was Fei.

"What is it?" he asked.

She kept her gaze fixed on the ground. Moments passed. His brow furrowed and he was just about to tell her to say something when she suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around his middle. His eyes widened and he stiffened from his head to his toes. Fei was hugging him. For some reason, all he could think was that her hair was tickling his chin and she smelt like the herbs used in her mother's medicine: a hint of astragalus, salvia and tang-keui.

"I'm going to miss you, Lee."

Her voice got swallowed up in his tunic. He stood there with his arms held awkwardly away from her, not sure how to respond. Eventually, she pulled back and raised her face to meet his gaze. His heart thudded against his ribs. There was something in her eyes that whispered of more than friendship and casual conversations, something that made him conscious of the fact he was a boy and she was a rather cute girl. His breathing sped up. It would be easy to lean in, to close the distance between them as he knew she wanted him to do. Yet even as his gaze dropped to her lips, he realised that he could not do it.

_The Blue Spirit always makes a clean escape._

Lee stepped back and placed the mask over his face. "Goodbye, Fei."

He was gone on the words, fading into the shadows of the night. He knew that a door was closing, separating him from the girl with the toothy smile and the life that could have been, but he did not mourn the loss. Lee was not and could never be an ordinary Earth Kingdom boy. He was the Blue Spirit, and somewhere out there was the other half of himself: the half who had been watched over by a woman with amber eyes and dark hair; the half who had received a pearl-handled dagger with engravings on either side as a gift. Now, with only a Pai Sho tile and a scrap of parchment to direct him, he had to find that boy.

Lee exhaled deeply as he ran, guided by the silver light of the moon. It was time to begin his search.

oOo

It was quiet in the room. Candles flickered, but the two men paid no heed to the dimming of the lights. Their attention was fixed on the board between them where a lotus flower began to form as they placed each new tile on the squares. When both players had run out of tiles, they looked up at each other with newfound respect.

"Welcome, brother," the man in the green tunic said, clasping his hands together on the table. "The White Lotus opens wide to those who know her secrets."

General Iroh's mouth quirked into a smile. "I'm counting on it. There is much that needs to be done. You might have heard that I've started the call, but I'm going to need your help to get the news to the rest of the Order."

The man's eyes widened. "Then you must be General Iroh, the Grand Lotus."

Iroh nodded. "But please call me Yingjie. It's not safe for me to use my name in these parts. My brother has branded me a traitor and my niece will stop at nothing to capture me and take me back to the Fire Nation. It is best for everyone if people believe me to be nothing more than a humble Earth Kingdom refugee."

"I understand, Gen—I mean, Yingjie."

"Excellent." Iroh leaned forward. "Now, I have a very important question for you."

"Yes?"

"Do you have any tea?" Iroh gave a mournful sigh. "It's been so long since I've tasted a good cup of ginseng, though I'd be willing to have any flavour at this point. You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find the right plants to brew your own while on the run. I thought I could make some with the white dragon bush I found, but, uh"—he gave a belly-rumbling chuckle—"well, that didn't turn out so well."

The man in the green tunic blinked a few times. "Uh, I'm sure we can find you some tea, Gen—Yingjie. Just let me ask Chonglin."

Iroh's eyes twinkled. "Thank you. It will be much appreciated."

The agent stood up and left the room. Several minutes later, he returned with a small, balding man who was carrying a tray with a cup and a steaming pot of tea on top. No doubt the aforementioned Chonglin.

Iroh sniffed the air. "Ah, ginseng," he observed. "My favourite."

Chonglin knelt by the table and poured the tea for him. One sip had the old general sighing in satisfaction. Now that was good tea. When he was halfway through his drink, he cradled the cup in his hand and glanced at the two agents now seated opposite him.

"Perhaps there is something else you can help me with, Chonglin," Iroh mused.

"I will be happy to be of service," Chonglin replied. "It has been a long time since we've had a Grand Lotus stay with us."

Iroh shook his head. "This is something personal, though I admit I had once hoped …" He trailed off with a sigh. "Well, I guess there is no saying what the future will bring."

Chonglin clasped his hands on his lap. "What is it you wish to know, Yingjie?"

"It's about my nephew," Iroh admitted. "We were separated during the siege of the North. I was just wondering if any of the agents who have been tracking the Fire Nation's movements have heard anything about what happened to him."

The two White Lotus members exchanged a glance.

"There have been some rumours," Chonglin said in a grave voice, "but I'm afraid you will not like what they have to say."

Iroh tightened his grip on the tea cup. "Tell me."

"Apparently, Princess Azula found her brother half-dead in the ocean. She was supposed to be taking him back to the Fire Nation, where he would be imprisoned, but something went wrong. There are differing opinions about what happened after that, but the general consensus is still the same." Chonglin shook his head in what might have been regret. "I'm sorry, General Iroh, but your nephew is dead."

The cup slipped from Iroh's fingers, spilling the rest of the tea on the floor. He did not even think to correct the other man for using his proper name. "No," he said in a strained voice. "That's not possible."

"I am sorry," Chonglin repeated.

Iroh stared at his hands, which he dimly realised were trembling. In his mind, he could see the boy with the scar that should have never marred his face—that strong, loyal and loving boy who had tried so hard to meet Ozai's expectations, no matter how impossible.

"I should not have left him," Iroh whispered, closing his eyes.

He had placed the world before his nephew, but for many years now it was Zuko who had meant the world to him. Hearing Chonglin's words was like losing Lu Ten all over again. Iroh wished with all of his heart that he could turn time back and ignore Pakku's warning. If he had a second chance, he would stand by his nephew until the end, regardless of what danger it presented to himself or how it would impact the Order of the White Lotus. But he could not change the past; he could only change the future.

"Are you sure those rumours are true?" Iroh asked, straightening his back. "Is there any physical proof, like a body?"

"The reports were quite explicit, though it was suggested the most likely cause of death was drowning. I don't believe a body was ever found."

Iroh's eyes gleamed. "Then there's still a chance."

The two men exchanged another glance.

Iroh stood up and faced the two White Lotus members with a grim expression. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I will have to leave you much sooner than I thought. Please, continue to spread the news to the rest of the Order outposts that the time has come to prepare for the next phase. We will need all the aid we can get if we are to end this war."

"And what of you?" Chonglin asked. "Where will you go next?"

Iroh looked out the window to where he could see the moon shining in a silver crescent against the night sky. "I'm going to fulfil a promise I made to myself three years ago."

He had sworn when Zuko had first been banished that he would never abandon him, that he would stay and protect his young relative for as long as it was necessary. Today, he had discovered that he had almost failed in his duty, but he would not let such a mistake happen again.

_We shall meet again, my nephew._

It didn't matter how long it took. He refused to lose another son.


	4. Chasing Shadows

The fish was taunting him. Lee didn't know how many times he had thrown, stabbed and lunged with his make-shift spear at the slippery creature, but every time he had missed. His prey didn't even have the decency to swim upstream to escape him in fear. Instead, it would dive in and out of the water, showing off its silver scales, or else just swim around him in circles. It was infuriating, but it was also humiliating. The Blue Spirit could take down four firebenders with his swords without breaking a sweat, yet here he was unable to catch one measly fish.

"Just stay still!" Lee growled, raising his spear to strike.

The fish weaved in a diamond-like pattern around his legs and then paused. Quick as lightning, Lee brought the sharpened point down to impale his would-be dinner. A silver tail flicked out in retaliation and the stream rose up to meet him, splashing him in the face and drenching him from head to foot. He spat out the water that had got into his mouth and scowled as droplets dripped from his hair and clothes. Looking far too pleased, the fish darted to his left and then waited as if daring him to try again. Lee made a strangled noise of frustration.

"This is impossible!" he groaned, throwing the spear on the ground.

Clearly, he had not been much of a fisherman in his past. Just like he had discovered, much to his dismay, that he was not good at starting fires either. It had taken him hours to get his campfire going the first night he had headed out on his own for Omashu. After two days of travelling, he thought that he was finally beginning to get the hang of it, but it still took him at least ten attempts before he could create a flame. The action of striking the rocks together just felt so foreign to him and the rocks themselves seemed so clumsy and awkward in his hands. It didn't make sense, but then he was beginning to realise that there were a lot of things about him that didn't make sense.

Lee sighed. It looked as if he was going to be eating stale rations again.

Voices drifted towards him. Snatching up his belongings, he ran into the trees and dropped to the ground so that he was completely hidden. A group of men in Fire Nation armour appeared a few seconds later.

"So then I asked her if she wanted to join me in the back room," one of the soldiers was saying, who stood out for the ridiculously large moustache drooping from his upper lip.

"And what did she say?" the spearman on the left responded, kneeling by the stream to fill up his waterskin.

"She told me that she would on one condition. I had to get rid of the moustache." The soldier shook his head with a feigned sigh. "Well, naturally I had to put her straight. 'Sweetheart,' I said, 'I don't care if you are the Red Peony and the most beautiful dancer in the Fire Nation; I've been grooming this moustache for three years and I'm not about to cut it off for you.'"

The group of men laughed and continued filling up their waterskins, still chatting among themselves about old conquests and the pretty Earth Kingdom women they'd met during their time abroad. Lee scowled and wondered when they were going to leave. This was not a conversation he wanted to hear, especially since Moustache Man loved to go into lurid detail about all the adventures he'd had behind closed doors. Lee's cheeks flooded with heat just thinking about it.

A man sporting the armour of a higher-ranked officer marched into the clearing. "What are you all doing sitting around like a bunch of gossiping women?" he demanded. "Hurry it up! We've been ordered to join the blockade in the pass to the Kolau Mountains. There are rumours that the Avatar is heading for Omashu."

"The Avatar?" Moustache Man exclaimed, dropping his waterskin.

"Are you sure, Captain?" the spearman asked, looking a bit alarmed.

"Of course I'm sure, you idiots! Now get your act together and move! I'm not having my regiment be labelled as a—" The captain frowned as he knelt to examine something on the ground. "What's this?"

Lee's eyes widened as he saw the captain pick up a familiar dagger, which glinted with a black sheen in the afternoon light. The knife must have slipped free when he'd been running. This was not good.

"What is it, Captain?" Moustache Man asked, moving to stand beside his superior.

"This is not an ordinary dagger." The captain removed the blade from its sheath and turned it on either side to read the inscriptions. "Only someone of very high rank would carry a dagger like this. The quality of the materials used is extremely fine, and the craftsmanship itself is the best I've seen. Not even our most prized blacksmiths in the Fire Nation could do better."

"Seems odd that the owner would just leave it here," Moustache Man observed. "You'd think a person would notice losing something like that."

"Unless the owner never left."

All the blood seemed to freeze in Lee's veins. He realised that his footprints were still visible on the ground and led straight to his hiding position. His heart thudded against his ribs and he closed his fingers around the sheath encasing his dao blades. There were only two options he could take in that moment: flee and hope the soldiers would not follow, or fight and hope that he could win. Since Lee was not about to lose the only item he had that he knew personally belonged to him, he decided to go with the latter.

He slipped the blue mask over his face and gripped the combined hilts of his swords. Instinct told him how to remove the blades without making a sound, and it was with equal quietness that he rose to his feet and strapped the scabbard to his back, freeing up one of his hands. He'd have to be quick if he wanted to do this without getting hurt or captured. There were seven men in total: three firebenders, including the captain, three spearmen, and a long-range fighter specialising in a crossbow. The odds were not in Lee's favour, but none of the soldiers had noticed his presence yet, too busy discussing the dagger and the whereabouts of its owner. In that, he still had the element of surprise.

Crossbow first. Lee noticed that the long-range fighter was standing a little apart from the group and that none of the others were paying much attention to him.

He darted out from the trees with cat-like swiftness and clamped a hand over the archer's mouth, pulling him back into the shadows before anyone could notice. There was a brief struggle before he got the man down, now barely conscious, and pinned his arms with his own armour and used a ripped bit of his shirt as a gag. There, that should hold him for now.

Sheathing the blades, Lee picked up the fallen crossbow and quiver. He slotted a bolt into the correct position and took aim at one of the firebenders, knowing that he had to get this right the first time. He released the catch and watched the heavy arrow soar through the air before it buried itself into the man's midriff where the leather armour did not cover.

Shouts echoed in Lee's ears as he fixed a new bolt in place and fired. This time he hit one of the spearmen in the chest and knocked the man to his knees. Now, he only had one more shot before he would have to switch to close-range combat. The crossbow was too slow to be used effectively for long and it was much harder to deal out an incapacitating blow in one hit. Even still, the wounds created by the weapon would at least help to even the scales for him, if only to impair his opponent's fighting abilities. But he would have to be quick. Some of the men were already heading to his position, having guessed the general direction from where the arrows had been fired. He also knew that the rest of the regiment could not be far away. The last thing he needed was for one of them to call for reinforcements.

Exhaling deeply, Lee aligned the crossbow with the closest soldier and released the catch. He missed his target by several inches, thrown off by the man's movement, but there wasn't time to curse his poor aim. He dropped the crossbow without a second thought.

The familiar song of steel rang in his ears as he unsheathed his blades, then charged through the trees towards his opponents, letting his instincts take over as he let go of the boy with the scar and became one with his mask. Duck, slash, parry. He moved like a whirlwind of steel, guided by the memories of past battles, which whispered words of advice to his mind in shadowed echoes and images. He was the Blue Spirit, and he was not going to lose this fight.

Two spears rose to stab him in the chest. Lee swung his swords around in a sweeping arc and knocked the spears aside, then counterattacked in a swift, outward thrust that sent both men sprawling. Heat brushed his back. He moved just in time to avoid being struck by a fireball. Breathing hard, he turned to see the three firebenders closing in on him. He sensed rather than saw one of the spearmen get up to flank him from behind; the other two were still lying on the ground, too wounded to move.

"Think you can take all of us down?" Moustache Man taunted, holding his palm up as if he were about to unleash a stream of fire.

"Careful, Nianzu," the captain warned. "You should not underestimate the Blue Spirit. He might be just one man, but he is known to be very dangerous."

Lee stared at the men warily, his eyes flickering from one face to the next to see who would make the first move. He paused when his gaze came to rest on the firebender standing on the left. The man was slumped forward slightly and had blood spreading in a dark stain on his midriff. Lee's eyes narrowed as he realised that was the one he had shot with the crossbow. He knew it would be easy enough to take the wounded firebender out, but the other soldiers would be bound to attack if he tried to make a move. That was a risk he wasn't willing to take when he was surrounded.

_I need a distraction._

Suddenly, he remembered how the fish had diverted his attention when he had been trying to catch it earlier. He kicked hard at the gritty dirt and grains of sand and mud flicked upwards. There was a grunt and the three firebenders brought their arms up in reflex to shield their eyes. Already running, Lee lashed out at the wounded soldier with his blades, incapacitating him with a controlled slice to the man's torso and legs. The sound of wood whistling through air had Lee dodging to the side, just missing being impaled by the tip of the spearman's weapon. He growled and brought his leg down in a ruthless axe kick, snapping the spear clean in half. The spearman's eyes widened. A second later, he was joining the injured firebender on the ground, rendered useless by a swift thrust to his side.

"Stop him!"

Lee didn't know who had shouted, but he didn't wait to see. Swinging his swords back into an offensive stance, he ducked a fireball and then lunged for Moustache Man, breaking through his defences to knock him down with a hard kick to the stomach. Grimly, he brought the hilt of his blade down against the man's head. The blow had either knocked him out or killed him, but Lee hoped for the former. It wasn't like he wanted to kill these men. He just couldn't afford to be gentle either.

Arms suddenly latched around his middle. He struggled, but the arms clamped down harder and trapped his swords to his side.

"Got you!" the captain grunted in his ear. "Now drop the swords or you'll soon find out what it means to be embraced by fire."

Heart pounding, Lee released his grip on his blades and relaxed just enough to make the captain think that he was completely subdued.

"Good. Now I want you to—"

Lee rammed his head back against the other's face. Bone crunched and the man cried out. A vicious kick to the shins did the rest. The arms that had been trapping him disappeared and he quickly snatched his swords up from the ground and spun in a flash of steel.

The captain slumped to his knees, clutching at his stomach where blood trickled out in ribbons of red. Blood was also splattered over his face from where his nose had been broken. "H-how?" he choked out.

Lee brought the dao swords together to form one blade, then reached down and removed the dagger from the man's belt. He paused. "You should get a healer to look at that wound," he said, gesturing to the gash on the captain's stomach. "I tried not to cut through any vital organs, but it's possible I miscalculated with that last strike."

The captain's eyes widened. Without waiting for a response, Lee sheathed his blades and headed for the trees to gather up his belongings. If the rest of the regiment had not already been alerted from the sounds of fighting, they would no doubt be along soon to discover what had happened to their captain and fellow soldiers. It was best to hurry.

Scrambling into his boots, he slung his pack over his shoulder and then turned to leave when he spotted the crossbow and quiver of bolts lying on the ground. A frown tugged at his lips. The crossbow was not his weapon of choice. He had instinctively known how to use it, but he had realised rather quickly that he was not an expert at hitting his target. Still, it had come in handy, and there was no saying what other dangers he would face during his passage through the Kolau Mountains, especially if it was true that the Fire Nation was forming a blockade.

"Better to be safe than sorry," he muttered, snatching up the crossbow and quiver.

He fastened the weapon to his pack and then did a quick search of the other soldiers' pockets for anything useful. There were a few money pouches—too light to hold many coins—and some dried meat that would serve as extra rations. The coil of rope attached to the archer's waistband also caught his eye. He decided to take that too and shoved the lot in his pack, which he then slung over his shoulder. The quiver of bolts soon joined the bag, but he did not begrudge the added weight.

A crunching, cracking sound told him that heavy machinery was approaching, snapping through branches. Lee checked to make sure that he had not forgotten anything and then headed deeper into the trees. He would have to get far away from the stream if he wanted to avoid being pursued. However, as he ran, it was not the thought of being chased that troubled him. It was the one sentence that he had overheard the captain say to his men.

_"There are rumours that the Avatar is heading for Omashu."_

Lee frowned and ducked under a branch, wondering why that name had struck such a chord with him. There had been no rush of memories, no faceless voices, just an odd urge to follow, as if it was the Avatar who had been calling him to action all along. No matter how hard he tried, however, he could not connect the pieces to explain the feeling. His mind was a jigsaw puzzle of broken echoes and shadows, and nothing he did could make the segments fit. It was frustrating, but no more than any of the other times he had discovered a gap in his memories that he was unable to fill.

Shrugging off the matter, Lee increased his speed and focussed only on getting out of the forest. He still had a lot of ground to cover before he reached Omashu and he could not afford to be distracted with so many Fire Nation soldiers crawling around. Right now, he just had to concentrate on surviving.

oOo

It was dark by the time he reached Omashu. He had been surprised to discover a red Fire Nation flag fluttering from the city wall, but he had come too far to let it stop him. Regardless of who was in control, he had to get inside the library and see if he could find something about the path of the ancient ways.

The wall did present a problem. It was a huge mass of stone that looked far too smooth to have been crafted with anything but earthbending, nor were there any nearby cliffs or trees to help him ascend. Lee knew that he could just wait until the gate opened to sneak inside, but there was no saying how long that would take. Fortified cities only opened their front gates to welcome in new supplies or visiting officials. Since he was neither, it looked as if his only option was indeed to climb.

"There has to be a way," Lee muttered, folding his arms and zeroing in on a more shadowed, secluded part of the wall.

If he timed it well, the soldiers guarding the perimeter wouldn't notice if he climbed that section. The question that remained was if he'd be able to scale a wall of this size. He moved closer and ran his hand over the stone. It really was too smooth—no ridges or anything to provide a good enough grip to safely climb a wall of this size. He'd risk breaking his neck if he tried.

That was when he remembered the crossbow and rope.

He removed one of the bolts from the quiver slung over his shoulder and examined its sturdiness, testing to see if it would be able to pierce through stone and how much weight it could carry without dislodging. The bolt seemed solid enough. His brow creased and he stared back at the wall. His plan was dangerous, very dangerous, but if it worked...

Lee tightened his grip on the bolt. He had to try.

Removing the rope from his pack, he tied one end to the bolt in a complicated knot and then, after making sure the rope was not going to come loose, slotted the bolt into position on the crossbow. He exhaled deeply and raised the weapon. This time, he could not afford to make mistakes.

"Please work," he murmured.

He released the catch. The bolt soared through the air and buried itself into the topmost part of the wall. Lee held his breath as he watched the rope uncoil like a snake and dangle against the side of the stone in a thread of silver. His jaw clenched. The rope had stopped just under halfway and would be impossible for him to reach from the ground. Just perfect.

Forcing himself to calm, he fixed a new bolt into place and shot the projectile into the stone just within reaching distance. A second followed a little higher up from the first, and then another and another. Sometimes he misjudged his aim, sometimes the arrows ricocheted off the stone, and sometimes he just had to wait so the guards he could see patrolling the wall would not be alerted to his presence from the noise. By the time the quiver was almost empty, he had created a zigzagging-like line of bolts leading to the bottom of the rope, like a ladder without rungs. It wasn't his chosen method of scaling a wall, but it would have to do.

Lee tucked away the crossbow, quiver and his pack into a small alcove near the precipice, which surrounded the city like a giant moat. All three were not exactly heavy, but they were still bulky enough to hinder his manoeuvrability. Best just to leave them here for now. He could come back to get his belongings later. Though he did remove his waterskin from the pack, which he stuffed into his tunic to join the Pai Sho tile and scrap of parchment. The dagger was safely tucked into his boot.

Satisfied that he had everything he needed, he turned to face the wall. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, and jumped to grab the first bolt.

The climb was not easy. It took all of his agility and strength to make it up his make-shift line of hand-holds, especially since his right shoulder kept twinging at inopportune moments and one of the bolts decided to slip free, almost sending him tumbling to the ground. But Lee was not to be deterred. He trusted in his instincts and soon made it to the rope, which he was able to scale much more quickly.

He paused when he got close to the top; soft footsteps alerted him to the fact the guard patrolling the section had come back. He gripped the rope and stuck close to wall, praying the guard would not look down. The seconds felt like hours. Sweat gathered on his brow behind the mask. Wasn't this guy ever going to move?

Eventually, the tap, tap of footsteps retreated again. Lee exhaled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He waited a moment longer before he clambered up the rest of the rope and landed in a crouch on the rampart. No shouts or alarms sounded. So far so good. He quickly untied the rope from the bolt and gathered it into a loop, which he then tied to his belt. It might come in handy again. There was nothing he could do about the bolts, but that was fine. Unless someone looked down from this particular spot on the rampart, they wouldn't even notice the metal spikes jutting out from the stone.

Now all he had to do was find the library.

Ducking low so as not to be seen, he headed away from the outer wall and towards the main part of the city. A few patrol guards got in his path, but he skirted around them so they wouldn't notice him. His instinct for stealth was really coming in handy; unfortunately, he had no clue where he was going. More often than not, his mind supplied him with an instinctive map of places. This time he had nothing. It seemed he had not made a habit of visiting Omashu in his past. He would just have to search the old-fashioned way and hope that he could find it before he was discovered by the Fire Nation.

So it was that Lee made his way over the rooftops, grateful for the compact nature of the city that allowed him to leap from building to building without any of those patrolling the ground noticing him. He frowned as he wondered why no one else but soldiers seemed to be wandering the streets. Perhaps there was a curfew in place. That would certainly explain the quiet but tense energy that emanated from the city.

He was just making his way past some scaffolding when he heard a strange rumbling noise. Turning in alarm, he saw a boy wearing an orange cape knock an avalanche of rocks away with a blast of wind. On the plaza below, two females—one who was holding a baby—and a group of soldiers stood watching in surprise. All of them would have been crushed had the boy not stepped in to help.

"The resistance!" the woman holding the baby exclaimed, pointing her finger at the boy.

Lee was stunned to see the younger girl in the red dress step forward and fan out her arms, releasing a flurry of small, arrow-like darts. The weapons headed straight for the boy with the staff. With rare grace, he dodged them all and then gestured at something behind him. Only then did Lee notice the other boy and girl, both clad in blue. A frown creased his brow as he watched the guards climb up the ladders to pursue the trio. The blue-clad girl managed to knock some of the guards off with waterbending, but then the same female in red rushed onto the platform with fresh weapons clutched in her hands, already aiming to attack.

Perhaps it was the fact that Lee knew Orange Cape had only been trying to help. Perhaps it was simply because he wasn't used to playing spectator. Either way, he found himself jumping down from his perch just as red-clad girl made to unleash another volley of darts. In one quick lunge, he grabbed her wrists and twisted her arms up, making the projectiles shoot harmlessly off to the side. Tawny eyes glared at him as he held her subdued, and for a moment he was struck by the familiarity of her angular, almost cat-like features. Was it possible that he had met this girl before?

Before he could ponder the matter further, she slid her foot between his and yanked back hard, shaking his balance. He recovered in an instant, but by then she had already slipped free of his grasp and was firing a hail of knives from the mechanisms tucked in her sleeves. His eyes widened behind the slits of his mask. There wasn't enough time to dodge the attack. She was too close, her weapons too fast.

"No!" someone yelled.

A wall of ice came up between him and the knives. He stepped back in surprise and then a hand latched around his wrist and started tugging.

"Come on!" the waterbender urged. "We have to get out of here!"

Lee didn't argue and followed her to where he could see Orange Cape and the other blue-clad boy fighting the last of the guards. Soon, it was just the four of them on the platform.

"You!" Orange Cape exclaimed, taking a step towards Lee. "Is it really—"

"Aang, we don't have time for this!" the waterbender interjected. "That girl with the throwing weapons is still coming after us."

As if on cue, a red-tinted knife flashed into view in the corner of Lee's eyes. He reached forward on instinct and pulled Aang out of the way just as the knife embedded itself into the scaffolding directly where he had been standing.

"That was close," Aang gasped, still leaning against Lee's chest.

Lee narrowed his eyes and released the boy's cape. He brought his swords out with a ring of steel. The girl in red was not going to give the trio a chance to escape if she could help it. She was determined, and she was ruthless too. Still, he'd immobilised her once. He could do it again. So he gestured for the three to run and stepped forward to meet his knife-wielding opponent.

"No, wait!" Aang exclaimed.

Before Lee could respond, the kid rushed forward and brought his staff around in a sweeping curve, creating a gust of wind that surged forth and crashed against the scaffolding to their right. Bits of metal and stone fell down in front of them. Debris and dust quickly blocked the path. Lee thought he might have heard the whirring sound of darts shooting through the air, but he didn't get the chance to warn the others. As he opened his mouth to speak, the ground opened up from underneath them and then they were plunging into the earth.

Someone yelped—maybe that boy in blue—but Lee was too shocked to even make a sound. It felt like he'd left his stomach back up on the surface. Then his back hit the ground with a thud and he realised the drop had been quite small. A second later someone landed on top of him. All the breath was knocked from his lungs. Groaning, he sat up and saw Aang sprawled on his lap. For a moment they just stared at each other: Lee irritated while the young boy was wide-eyed. Then two scrawny arms wrapped around Lee's chest, pulling him into a tight hug.

"It really is you!" Aang exclaimed, still clutching Lee as if his life depended on it. "I was so worried! I didn't know what had happened to you, and then I started hearing rumours that you were dead and I—"

A man cleared his throat. Lee would have been amused by how quickly Aang froze upon noticing the four earthbenders, but in that moment he just felt too shaken. It was one thing to sense that there were gaps in his memories; it was quite another to have some random boy hug him and babble on in a bewildering rush of words as if they had always known each other. Even now, Lee could feel his mind throbbing in twinges of pain from the effort of trying to make sense of it all, yet there were no images to help him connect the pieces. He was just ... lost.

Lee barely noticed when Aang got off him, though somehow he found himself back on his feet. Strange. He didn't remember standing up.

He rubbed at his temples, trying to ease the headache that scattered his thoughts. He felt so disorientated. Voices echoed around him in a buzz of noise, but he couldn't make out the words. It wasn't until he became aware of an insistent tugging on his sleeve that clarity returned, allowing him to focus on the young boy standing beside him.

"You okay?" Aang asked.

Lee stared at the arrow tattooed onto his head. "You're the Avatar, aren't you?"

Aang blinked. "Uh, yeah."

"And we know each other?"

"Of course." Aang nudged him in the ribs. "You're the Blue Spirit."

Lee let out a breath that he didn't realise he had been holding. "Right," he said flatly. "The Blue Spirit."

Aang scrunched his face in confusion. "Is this some kind of game or something?"

Lee was about to respond when they were interrupted by the blue-clad warrior.

"Hey, Aang, I know you're happy to see the Blue What's-His-Face again, but Yan says he's not going to wait any longer. We need to keep moving."

"Sorry, Sokka," Aang said with a sheepish grin. "We're coming now." He glanced back at Lee. "You are coming with us, right?"

Lee nodded. Not that he had much of a choice in the matter. It wasn't as if he could earthbend his way out of the tunnels.

Aang beamed in approval and darted ahead to join the waterbender and the four earthbenders. There was a lemur flying in circles above their heads, chittering in a loud, irritable way as if to tell them to hurry up. Lee frowned. He didn't remember seeing the creature earlier.

"Hey."

Lee glanced back at the warrior. Sokka, did the Avatar say his name was?

"I know Aang thinks the world of you," Sokka said in a low voice, "but we've had people help us in the past only to turn on us a second later." He leaned forward, pointing a threatening finger at Lee's face. "I've got my eye on you, Blue Mask."

Not waiting for a response, Sokka stalked away to join the rest of the group. Lee repressed a sigh before following. In truth, he was not surprised that Sokka had tried to intimidate him. He probably would be just as mistrustful. Still, Lee did have to wonder what he was getting himself into by going with these people.

Hugs and now threats? He hated to think what would be next.

* * *

If you're wondering why I have allowed so much time to pass before Aang and co. reached Omashu, here is my explanation:

1) Azula meets up with Zuko and Iroh. Then she dithers around on her boat for a while before she decides to ditch the royal procession and find Ty Lee; however, even after all of that she still somehow manages to make it to Omashu around the same time as Aang and the others. Unless she has some secret powers of deduction and speed going on, that's not going to happen in a couple of days.

2) Aang and co. are travelling via a flying bison. This suggests to me that the Earth Kingdom base was a lot farther away from Omashu than the show lets on, for the same reasons I explained above.

3) If we're to believe events are happening simultaneously, Zuko suddenly having hair in the Cave of Two Lovers episode suggests at least some time has passed, otherwise he'd still be sporting his monk hairdo.

4) Nothing to do with canon, but I really just wanted to have the Blue Spirit run into the Gaang in Omashu.


	5. A Friendship Forged, a Trust Broken

The Avatar had given a speech to the resistance members about "Living to fight another day". It was decided that everyone would flee the city using pentapox, though Lee had not understood how that was meant to help anything. The next morning, he finally understood why the waterbender had been so amused by his confusion. Buckets of purple pentapi had been collected from the sewers and were used to make the civilians and resistance fighters look as if they had a skin disease. Combined with an old man's coaching on how to act ill, the group were transformed into an army of plague carriers, all of whom moaned and stumbled as they walked while looking as if they were about to die on the spot. It was a genius plan, for not even the Fire Nation had the power to combat an epidemic. The governor would be forced to let them go or risk his people succumbing to the "sickness" as well.

Lee folded his arms and watched the spectacle of the Omashu residents practising to be ill. He'd declined the offer of having the waterbender—Katara, he reminded himself—put pentapus marks on him. He didn't need to pretend to be one of the living dead to slip past the soldiers, and he had no desire to remove his mask if he could help it. He had not forgotten Qiao's advice. Besides, he wasn't planning on joining the great exodus to escape the city. He had come to Omashu to find information about the path of the ancient ways, and that was what he was going to do. First, however, he needed to discover the location of the Omashu Library.

He noticed Yan walking past holding a bucket of pentapi in his arms. "Wait," Lee said, pushing away from the wall.

Yan threw an impatient glance his way. "What is it? Can't you see I'm in a hurry?"

"Can you tell me where to find the library? It's important."

"You're wasting your time, kid. The Omashu Library has always been part of the palace, and that was razed to the ground when the Fire Nation first took over the city." He took a firmer grip on the bucket, stopping a pentapus from escaping. "I'm sorry, but whatever information you were hoping to find is gone."

Something cold settled in the pit of Lee's stomach. Dimly, he was aware of Yan walking away, but everything seemed so insignificant and fuzzy to him in that moment. All he could think was that it had all been for nothing. No one had seemed to know about the path of the ancient ways, and now he had discovered that the library and all of its contents had been destroyed. It was so frustrating, so hopeless. He had been certain that Omashu would give him the answers he sought, but all he had found was another dead end.

"Everything okay?"

Lee turned and saw the Avatar frowning up at him. The orange turban was once again wrapped around Aang's head, yet Lee noticed there were no pentapus marks on his face or neck.

"You're not joining the others," Lee observed.

"I see you aren't either."

Lee's jaw tightened and he looked towards the city centre, staring at the space where the palace used to be and where the governor's house now gleamed in red and black. "It doesn't matter now," he said bitterly. "The knowledge I was searching for no longer exists."

Aang hesitated. "You know, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Yan. If it's information you want, I know someone who might be able to help."

"Who?"

"King Bumi. He can be a little crazy sometimes, but he knows a lot, especially about the Earth Kingdom." Aang gave a shy smile. "I'm going to go look for him now. You could come with me if you like."

A crease formed on Lee's brow. There was something familiar about that grin. Something that whispered of a clearing and a boy hugging his knees to his chest as he talked about the past.

_"If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends?"_

Lee let out a small breath. Just like that the memory was gone, retreating back behind the walls of his mind that he could never breach. His head lightly throbbed from the effort of trying to piece together his broken past, but he ignored the pain and stared at Aang with a new intensity. The Avatar had said that they had known each other, had hugged him and greeted him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Was it really possible that they had been friends?

"Alright," Lee said quietly. "I'll come with you."

Aang's grin widened. "Great! With the two of us searching, we should be able to find Bumi in no time."

Lee nodded. A commotion from the left had both boys turning to look at the assembled group of residents, all of whom were now suitably spotted and ready to begin the march for escape.

"Okay, everyone!" Sokka called, taking the lead. "Into sick formation!"

With much groaning and shuffling, the residents formed a pack and started making the slow trek for the gates. Lee and Aang exchanged a glance of silent agreement and headed in the opposite direction.

"Aang!" Katara exclaimed, running towards them. "What are you doing? Aren't you coming with us?"

Aang shook his head. "I'm not leaving until I find Bumi."

Momo leapt onto Aang's shoulder and chittered, grabbing his mouth.

"Sorry, Momo," Aang said, picking up the lemur and handing him back to Katara. "I'll feed you later."

Momo's ears drooped. Katara glanced up at Lee and he could see the undisguised worry in her eyes.

"You've always been there to help Aang in the past," she said, meeting his gaze through the slits of his mask. "Please protect him now."

Lee gave a slight nod. "I will."

"I can take care of myself, you know," Aang complained, looking somehow disgruntled yet at the same time pleased that she was showing so much concern for him.

"I know," she said, "but I'll just feel better if the Blue Spirit is keeping an eye on you too." Her lips curved. "You have to admit that you do have a habit of getting yourself into dangerous situations."

Aang rubbed the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin. It seemed that even he couldn't argue with that.

"We need to go," Lee stated flatly, turning his back on them. "It'll be easier to find King Bumi while the Fire Nation soldiers are distracted."

"You're right," Aang agreed.

Saying his last goodbyes to Katara, Aang then used airbending to propel Lee, along with himself, to the rooftops. Lee landed in a half-crouch and got to his feet to survey their surroundings. Not far below, he could see the residents of Omashu moving in a swarm of brown and green, filling up the narrow streets. Shouts of plague echoed throughout the city as the watchmen became aware of the situation. It would not be long before the alarm was sounded.

"They'll be keeping Bumi somewhere where he can't earthbend," Aang said, coming to stand beside Lee. "Got any ideas?"

Lee shook his head. "I don't think I came to Omashu very often. Your guess is as good as mine."

A slight crease formed on Aang's brow. "Right," he said slowly. "Well, I guess we'll just have to take our chances then." He flashed Lee an ear-splitting grin. "Think you can keep up?"

Lee rolled his eyes. "Just get moving, Avatar."

"Yes, sir!"

Aang bounded ahead, seeming to float rather than jump from one rooftop to the next. Lee followed with much less grace, but his strength and agility made up for his inability to bend the air currents into carrying him across the gaps. The Blue Spirit had made his home in the shadows. Jumping over rooftops had never been a problem for him, just as he had no trouble keeping pace now.

"It's just like old times, huh?" Aang said with a laugh as they ran side by side.

"Yeah," Lee said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Just like old times."

Except he had no memory of those times. He was a walking blank: a boy whose slate of identity had been wiped clean with a careless hand, leaving only blurred splotches of the truth. But here was someone who had known him, someone who could tell him about the past if he was willing to trust him.

Frowning, Lee slowed to a walk. "Hey, Aang," he said, testing out the Avatar's name on his tongue for the first time.

Aang stopped in his tracks. "Yeah?"

Lee opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. "Nothing," he said, walking ahead. "It's nothing. Let's just keep searching."

Aang didn't move. "You know, you've been acting kind of weird ever since you joined us yesterday. Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Why would you think it isn't?"

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because you almost died!" Aang took a step towards him. "I know things haven't always been easy between us, but you're here now and you're actually helping me again, so I'm guessing something must have happened to change your mind about a few things."

Lee sighed and looked the other way. "That's the problem. I don't remember what happened."

"What?"

"One day I woke up in a healer's house," Lee confided, knowing he could no longer keep the truth to himself. "I didn't know who I was or where I had come from. The girl who had been helping to take care of me said I hadn't spoken a word for two days. I wouldn't even move unless someone made me." He turned to meet Aang's horrified gaze. "Shock, the healer called it. Apparently, my body and mind had suffered too much pain at once. I was as good as dead, but somehow I snapped out of it. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to regain my memories."

"But you're better now, right?" Aang exclaimed, looking rather pale. "I mean, you remember me."

Lee shook his head. "I've managed to piece together some things, but most of it is just fragments. The only thing I know for certain is that I'm the Blue Spirit." His voice took on a wistful tone. "I don't even know my real name. I've just been calling myself Lee because that's what Fei and her family took to calling me during the time I couldn't speak."

Aang stared down at his hands, mesmerised by the way his thumbs circled each other. "So you don't remember anything about me or the time we spent together."

"I remember a clearing of trees and a boy talking about the world he used to know." Lee's mouth curved into a half-smile, though it was covered by the permanent grin etched onto his mask. "I also remember an offer of friendship."

Aang let out a small breath. "That's it, huh?" His voice sounded oddly shaky, as if he was trying not to laugh. Or cry.

"That's it."

For a moment, Aang was silent. Round and round went his thumbs, becoming more frantic with every second. Finally, he dropped his hands to his sides and raised his head. His cheeks were pale, but his expression was determined. "I can't tell you who you are," he said, not quite meeting Lee's eyes, "but I can tell you this. You saved my life once, even though we weren't allies at the time and it would have been easier for you to just let me die. I'll never forget that." Their eyes met. "You're a good person, Lee. No matter what anyone else tells you, I hope you'll remember that."

Lee's eyes narrowed. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"I—" Aang swallowed and tried again. "It's complicated. Let's just say I think it'll be safer for everyone if you keep that mask on."

"I think I understand."

Aang blinked in surprise. "You do?"

"Qiao told me the same thing just before I left the town to come here. She said it was better to have people chase a shadow than my real self."

"And what do you believe?"

"I don't think I have much of a choice. There are a lot of things I don't know about myself. Until I know who I really am, I can't take the risk of being recognised as anyone but the Blue Spirit, even by those I want to trust." His voice softened. "I've put enough people in danger."

Aang opened his mouth to respond when a loud clanging had them both looking towards the watchtowers.

"Looks like the alarm has been sounded," Lee observed. "Your friends must have made it to the main plaza. We'd better hurry."

He dashed ahead, but Aang remained where he was.

"What's wrong?" Lee asked.

Aang let out a small breath. "Nothing. I just hope Katara and Sokka are alright, that's all."

"I'm sure they're fine. Now hurry, otherwise we'll be the ones in trouble."

"Right. Sorry."

Lee rolled his eyes. Somehow, he got the feeling that he was often frustrated with this kid. He didn't know why the thought made him think of frozen frogs.

"Hey," Aang said, pointing to the alley below them. "I think I see someone I recognise."

"Who?"

"Flopsie!"

_"Who_?" Lee repeated, wondering if he had misheard the boy.

Aang merely grinned. "Come on, I think we just found our ticket to King Bumi."

oOo

There were bonfires everywhere. Katara thought the scene would have been quite beautiful, especially with the way the moon and the stars lit up the sky in a brilliant display of silver, but Aang and the Blue Spirit had still not returned. She was worried. It had been hours since she had said goodbye to the two and she hated to think that something might have happened to them. What if they had been caught trying to leave the city? What if one of them was hurt or—

But no. The Blue Spirit could heal so even if one of them did get injured, they would be okay. Besides, the Blue Spirit had said that he would keep an eye on Aang, and she knew Aang was no pushover either. She had to trust that they would both return to her safely.

"I know they will," she murmured.

"Huh?"

Katara glanced to the side to see Sokka quirking an eyebrow at her. "Just thinking aloud," she explained.

Sokka rubbed his chin and looked out into the distance to where Omashu lay behind the cover of the mountains. "I don't like that Aang went with that Blue Spirit guy," he said after a moment. "We don't know anything about him. We don't even know if we can trust him."

"Sokka, he saved Aang's life. I'm sure he's not about to turn around and try to have Aang killed."

"Yeah, and Jet helped us to fight off those Fire Nation soldiers as well. Remember what happened with him?"

Katara stared at her brother with an unimpressed expression.

"Look," he said, holding his hands up in an appeasing gesture, "all I'm saying is that we've been wrong about people's intentions before. Who's to say that this Blue Spirit guy doesn't have his own agenda as well?"

Katara folded her arms. "His intentions looked pretty clear to me when he stopped that Fire Nation girl from stabbing me in the back."

"And I'm grateful to him for that, but think about it, Katara. What do we really know about this guy?"

Katara closed her fingers around her necklace and watched the flames dance before her in flickers of orange and red. "I know that he's a healer and a waterbender. I know that he risked his life to save Aang and that he's wanted by the Fire Nation. I know that he helped us last night and has continued to help us since then." She shrugged. "Seems like a lot of good reasons to trust him, don't you think?"

"Well, I don't like him," Sokka said mulishly. "He doesn't even talk to us—just stands in the shadows and stares at everyone. It's creepy, and that mask of his is creepy too."

"He's probably just shy. Aang said that the Blue Spirit prefers to work alone. I guess he's not used to being around so many people. He certainly looked uncomfortable when I was talking to him last night."

She didn't mention that she had been surprised at the familiarity of his voice when he had first responded aloud to her. That for a moment, just a tiny moment, she had felt doubt and fear because only one person had spoken to her in such a raspy tone.

_"I'll save you from the pirates."_

Katara shook her head, brushing aside the memory as easily as a cobweb. The Blue Spirit had nothing in common with the temperamental prince she had helped to heal in the North Pole. At least not where it mattered. Their voices might be similar, but the Blue Spirit was composed and quiet, if a little abrupt at times. Zuko was loud and had exploded at every little thing. There could not have been two more different people. As such, she did not find it difficult to dismiss her brother's suspicions.

"Honestly, Sokka, I think you're just being paranoid. You didn't want to trust Aang when we first met him either and he's the Avatar! I don't think the Blue Spirit is trying to trick us. In fact, I—"

She broke off as she caught sight of two figures walking towards the camp, one of whom stood out for the blue mask covering his face. Behind them was a large creature with big, floppy ears.

"Is that Flopsie?" Sokka asked, following the direction of her gaze and standing up to get a better look.

"I don't know, but that's definitely Aang and the Blue Spirit. Come on!"

They ran to greet their friend, who just sighed and allowed his shoulders to droop a little more.

"We looked everywhere," Aang said miserably. "No Bumi."

Katara pulled him into a hug, trying to give him comfort where words could not. Sokka did the same for Flopsie, who was looking just as dispirited and making pining noises for his master.

"They can't make a king disappear," the Blue Spirit said with just the slightest hint of frustration. "If they're keeping him somewhere within the city, we will find him. I've already offered to go back later tonight to see what information I can find in the governor's home. If that fails, I'll try the soldiers' barracks."

"Don't you think that's dangerous?" Katara asked, releasing Aang to stare at him.

"I'm good at sneaking," he said with a shrug. "I'll be fine."

"But—"

"Don't worry, Katara," Aang said with a reassuring smile. "He knows what he's doing. I even said I'd go with him, but he told me I'd just get in the way."

"That's because you wouldn't know stealth even if it hit you in the head," the Blue Spirit said bluntly. "To be honest, I expected more from an airbender."

Sokka placed a hand over his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. Even Katara had to repress a grin.

"Hey, it's not like we got caught!" Aang defended, looking a bit red around the ears. "And I'll have you know that the monks always told me I was very light on my feet."

"Just not so good at keeping your mouth shut," his tormentor responded.

Aang was about to make a retort when Yan interrupted them by clearing his throat. Katara noticed that the Blue Spirit alone was not surprised to see the older man. Perhaps he had heard the resistance leader coming. She wouldn't put it past him; the masked warrior always seemed to be on alert despite his relatively calm disposition.

"We've got a problem," Yan said by way of greeting. "We just did a head count."

"Oh, no!" Katara exclaimed. "Did someone get left behind?"

"No." Yan gestured to the right. "We have an extra."

All four turned to look to where he had pointed. A group of Omashu residents sat huddled around a fire, but it was the winged lemur that caught her eye. Or, rather, the black-tufted baby who was clinging to the lemur's neck and who was being dragged around in circles as a terrified Momo tried to escape from its clutches.

"How did a baby get all the way out here?" Sokka asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Momo screeched and flapped his wings, levitating himself and the baby several metres from the ground. As he passed over the group, the baby lost its grip and fell straight for the Blue Spirit, who reached out and caught the giggling bundle easily. Apparently, falling was not a new experience to the little boy.

"Well, I guess that tells us how the baby got here," Aang commented. "Momo must have carried him out of the city by accident." He narrowed his eyes at the lemur, who had perched himself on Sokka's head. "You were stealing food again, weren't you?"

Momo chittered something that might have been a declaration of his innocence.

"Sorry, buddy," Sokka said, reaching up to scratch the lemur behind the ears, "but I don't think anyone is buying that."

Katara laughed and glanced back at the Blue Spirit, who was now fending off the baby's attempts to grab his mask. "I think he likes you," she teased.

"That's cute," Yan said in a tone that suggested he thought quite the opposite, "but you're missing the point. This is a Fire Nation child, and not just any one at that."

"What do you mean?" Katara asked, stepping forward to get a closer look at the baby.

"Look at his clothes," the Blue Spirit said softly. "They've been made with the finest silk. Whoever this child belongs to, it has to be someone important."

Yan folded his arms. "Exactly, and eventually his parents are going to notice that their pride and joy is missing."

"You think they'll come after us?" Aang asked.

"I don't know, but either way the rest of us will be leaving tomorrow morning. It's too risky for us to stay in the mountain ranges with Omashu so close."

"I'd avoid the northern exit if I were you," the Blue Spirit said, capturing both of the baby's hands with one of his own to stop the relentless assault on his mask. "The last time I passed through that way there was a Fire Nation blockade set up."

"We ran into that too," Sokka said. "There were a lot of fireballs. Though I have to admit, if I had known what was waiting for me in the Secret Love Tunnel, I think I might have just risked the fireballs."

Katara clenched her hands into fists. "Aren't you forgetting something?" She pointed a finger at the baby. "What are we supposed to do about him?"

"We could always get Momo to fly him back to the city," Aang suggested.

"Are you kidding?" she exclaimed. "The last time I tried to get Momo to fetch me some water, he brought me a dead mouse and a crown, not to mention all the other junk he found. I think it's safe to say that using the lemur transportation service is not an option."

The Blue Spirit held the baby away from him, tilting his head from side to side as he examined the little boy. "It's too bad we don't know who his parents are. I could have just dropped him off at their house when I returned to the city later."

"Well, we don't know," Katara responded, "and I'm still not sure if going back is such a good idea. Besides, how would you have found the right house?"

He shrugged.

"My point exactly."

The Blue Spirit leaned over and whispered something in Aang's ear. Katara watched as Aang chuckled and nodded.

"Oh, you have no idea," Aang commented.

"No idea about what?" Katara demanded suspiciously. "What are you two talking about?"

Sokka grinned. "I think I know. Blue Face over there has just noticed how bossy you can—argh!" He glared at his sister, who had just hit him on the head (and sent Momo screeching for a new perch). "What was that for? They're the ones who said it!"

"Is this true, Aang?" she asked, rounding on him. "Do you really think I'm bossy?"

Aang blushed. "I only meant that you can be a bit, uh, forceful with your—"

"Oh, forget it!" she snapped, then stomped over to where the Blue Spirit was standing and snatched the baby from his hands. "Do what you want, but I won't let you drag this child into it. He's just a baby."

"A Fire Nation baby," Yan reminded her, "and one who is currently putting all of us in danger."

Katara narrowed her eyes, daring the resistance leader to take the baby from her. Yan did not dare. Instead, he muttered something about checking on the other residents before moving to one of the campfires down the mountain path. Satisfied, Katara returned her attention to the boy in her arms. "Don't worry," she cooed, enfolding him in a hug. "I won't let them hurt you."

Sokka rolled his eyes. "She acts like we're going to put him on a spit and roast him."

Katara glared at her brother. "I heard that!"

"Hey, it was just an observation." He held up his hands. "You have to admit that you are being a little unreasonable right now."

"I admit to nothing of the sort." She wrinkled her nose. "Though I do think our new friend might have soiled his nappy. Sokka, can you grab my pack? I have some clean rags in there."

"I'll do it!" Aang cried, and shot off towards Appa in a blur of orange. A few seconds later he had returned and was dropping the bag at her feet.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. Carefully, she placed the baby down on his back and then pulled off his pants and the soiled cloth that had been tied at his waist to stop anything from leaking.

Sokka scrunched his nose. "Ugh, I think this is my cue to leave."

"Coward," his sister taunted.

"A warrior knows when to fight and when to retreat," Sokka said with all the dignity of a great chief. Then he clamped a hand over his nose and mouth. "This is a time to retreat!"

Katara pursed her lips as she watched her brother flee to another campfire. "What about you two?" she asked, turning to look at Aang and the Blue Spirit. "Are you going to run as well?"

Aang paused mid-step from where he had been trying to creep away. "Uh, of course not," he said, straightening to his full height and laughing nervously. Then he paled. "Why? Do you need any help?"

She couldn't stop the smile that came to her lips. "Some more water would be nice. I need to clean him before I can replace the nappy."

"Right."

Aang shot off again to look for water. It suddenly got very quiet around the campfire. Only the crackling of the fire and the baby's happy gurgles could be heard. Katara picked up the boy and held him out from her so that he couldn't wriggle away; those stumpy legs of his were surprisingly mobile and were apt to take their owner off without warning. Sighing, she stared at the masked warrior who was standing not far from her, looking as still and silent as a human statue. "I'm not really bossy, you know," she said a little defensively.

The Blue Spirit turned to look down at her, his mask glinting with the reddish glow of the campfire. Instead of saying anything, he just nodded as if to say that he understood. The lack of a verbal response made it feel like he wasn't convinced.

"Really, I'm not," she insisted. "I just—"

"You're just worried and want to make sure everyone is okay," he finished for her. "I get it."

Katara was quiet for a moment. "You know, you never did tell me your name."

He shrugged. "I'm the Blue Spirit."

A wry smile curved her lips. "Is that really your name?"

He turned his back to her. For a moment she thought he would never answer and that maybe she had crossed a line or been too pushy.

"Lee," he said softly. "My name is Lee."

Katara's smile widened a fraction. "Lee," she repeated. "I'll remember that."

His swift glance had her once more looking at the demonic grin that covered his face. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, for even his eyes were shadowed to the point of being unrecognisable. Still, the fact that she couldn't see his features didn't bother her as it once might have done. The important thing was that he was here. The important thing was that he was safe. And maybe, just maybe, he would stick around to stay with them this time. She hoped so. It would be nice to have another healer around.

oOo

Lee was just about to resume his search for Bumi when the messenger hawk arrived. The note turned out to be from the Fire Nation governor, who had accused them of kidnapping his son, Tom-Tom. Desperate, the governor had then offered a trade: his son for King Bumi. It was a deal that Lee and the others could not ignore, even if Sokka insisted that there had to be a catch.

"You're just being pessimistic," Katara retorted. "I don't see why the governor wouldn't want to trade King Bumi for his son. Clearly, he just understands the importance of family."

"The message does seem sincere," Lee allowed, "but we should still be cautious. Sokka is right, this could be a trap."

"I don't think so," Aang said quietly. "I'm sure the governor wants his son back just as much as we want Bumi. I have a good feeling about this."

Katara smiled at Lee. "Well, I guess this means you won't have to go back to the city tonight."

"I suppose," he said without enthusiasm.

Waiting until tomorrow to make the trade just meant more hours of hoping that Aang was right and that Bumi would be able to give him the information that he needed. Lee didn't know what he would do if it turned out that the king was just another dead end. Somehow, he didn't think that a Pai Sho tile, a dagger, a scrap of parchment and his own fragmented memories were going to get him very far in discovering the truth about his identity. He needed something more solid. He needed to know about the path of the ancient ways.

Lee repressed a sigh and stared at the flames dancing in a swirl of heat in front of him. It was soothing in a way and he slowly began to relax, letting the fire melt away all his fears and frustrations. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he barely noticed when Aang got up to tend to Appa. Then he caught sight of something blue flashing out of the corner of his eye. He raised his head and stared at the moon-shaped pendant hanging from Katara's throat, which baby Tom-Tom was now trying to grab.

"That necklace," Lee murmured. "Where did you get it?"

"It was my mother's," Katara explained, touching the pale stone. "She died in a Fire Nation raid when I was young. I've worn it ever since."

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling his own heart clench in inexplicable pain at the thought of losing a mother. "I just thought I recognised it, that's all."

Sokka looked up in interest from where he had been sharpening his boomerang. "That's a traditional Water Tribe necklace. The only way you could have seen one is if you've been to the Northern Water Tribe."

Lee said nothing. It wasn't as if he could remember if he'd ever spent time in the North Pole.

Katara shifted closer to Lee. There was a gleam of suppressed excitement in her eyes, as if he had just confirmed something to her. "Aang told us about how you lost your memories when you got hurt. Maybe you recognise the necklace because it's part of your heritage too."

His heart thudded against his ribs. "What are you talking about?"

"Lee, you didn't just save Aang's life. You healed him with bending." A warm smile touched her lips. "Don't you see? You're a waterbender."

"That's not possible," he said flatly. "I'm a non-bender. I've always just used swords."

"Then how did you heal Aang?" she persisted. He noticed that she was still smiling.

Lee shook his head. "I think I would know if I could bend. I've been around plenty of water and none of it wanted to do my bidding."

"Maybe you weren't trying hard enough. Here." She put Tom-Tom down on the ground and then bent the contents of her water skin into a nearby bucket, which she held out to him. "Try to move the water."

Lee stared at the unmoving liquid. He felt no connection with it, nothing to suggest that he could bend it to his will. But if Katara was right, if he really was a waterbender ...

He let out a deep breath and placed his hand over the water, concentrating on just a small section of the transparent surface. _Move!_ he willed in his mind. _Move, damn it!_

"Keep trying," Katara encouraged when nothing happened, "but don't try to force it. Waterbending is about working with your element: a constant push and pull, like the tides created by the different phases of the moon. Let the energy flow between you and the water. It will reach out to you."

He nodded and searched within himself, calling upon the energy that flowed through his chi paths. It was strange, for while he could indeed sense some kind of power buried deep inside his body, it was almost as if the pathways that led to that energy had been sealed off. Frustrated, he pushed against the barriers with his consciousness, trying to force a hole for the energy to slip through. The campfire sparked with a new intensity, and he was vaguely aware of Sokka leaning forward to get a better look at the bucket, but not a ripple disturbed the surface of the water.

_Come on._ Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. _If I really am a waterbender, then why won't you move?_

"What's going on?" Aang asked.

"Katara told Lee that she thinks he's a waterbender," Sokka explained. "Now she's trying to teach him how to bend, as it looks as if he forgot how to do it when he lost his memories. Can't say I'm complaining. I get drenched enough with just the two of you around."

Aang chewed on his bottom lip. "Oh." His gaze flickered to Lee and then off to the side, as if he couldn't bear to look at him. "Well, um, I just remembered that I have to do something so …" He left quickly, not even bothering to finish his explanation.

Sokka exchanged a glance with his sister. "That was weird."

Lee didn't hear what Katara said in response. With one ruthless push he had finally managed to create a hole in the seals blocking his chi. His head faintly pulsed from the effort and the water still had not moved, but for a moment he could feel the warmth and power waiting to be unleashed. He could feel his energy. Then something snapped inside him, like a string pulled too hard. Daggers of pain sliced through the tender shell of his mind and it was as if a vice was closing in on his consciousness. Gasping, he pushed the bucket away from him and placed his head in his hands, trying to ease his sudden dizziness.

"Lee, what's wrong?" Katara asked, hovering anxiously at his side.

"Just give me a moment," he grunted.

Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax. The painful pulsing in his head began to fade, along with the black dots swimming before his eyes. Once he was sure that he wasn't going to faint, he raised his head and looked at them.

"So?" Sokka prompted. "What went wrong?"

Lee shrugged. "I don't know. It's like whatever is stopping me from remembering my past has blocked my chi as well." He shifted his gaze to Katara. "Even if you're right that I'm a waterbender, I don't think I'll be bending any time soon."

She lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Lee. I didn't know it would hurt you like that. I shouldn't have been so pushy."

He dismissed her apology with a wave of his hand. "Forget about it. You were only trying to help. Besides," he tapped the hilts sticking out from the sheath strapped to his back, "I still have my swords."

As long as he had those, it didn't matter if he could bend or not. Though he did have to wonder about one thing: if he really was a waterbender, why did none of his memories as the Blue Spirit involve him using anything but swords to fight? And if he wasn't a bender, what was all that power he had felt buried inside him? He didn't understand, but one day he would, of that he was certain.

At the very least, his journey to Omashu had not been a complete waste. Qiao had told him that he might find someone who knew him in the city, and so he had. He'd found the Avatar. That had to count for something.

_"If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends?"_

The faintest of smiles tugged at Lee's mouth. Maybe it was fate that they should have met again. He'd always felt an inexplicable connection with the Avatar, and now he knew why. He'd saved the kid's life. Maybe, just maybe, it was Aang who would help Lee to regain his.

oOo

Most of the people gathered around the campfires had already fallen asleep. Aang sat huddled against Appa, hugging his knees to chest as he tried to ignore the fingers of guilt twisting his stomach into knots. He'd lied. He'd lied again and he knew in his heart that what he had done was so wrong, so selfish.

He'd just been so afraid. He'd just wanted his friend back. Somehow, he'd even managed to convince himself that it was fate the boy with the scar should have lost his memories and that it was okay to lie, because it would all work out in the end. It had been upsetting, of course, but then how many times had Aang wished that the two of them could start again, free from those bitter memories of the North Pole? This was his chance to make things right, to fix a past that had gone so horribly wrong. Or at least that was what Aang had told himself. Deep down, he knew that it was fear that kept him silent. He just couldn't bear to see those golden eyes burn with hate. Not again. Not after so many weeks of worry and despair.

So Aang had kept the truth to himself. He had lied. But then he had seen Katara trying to teach "Lee" how to waterbend and he'd just felt sick to his stomach. He should have spoken out then. He hated himself for staying silent.

"I'm sorry, Zuko," Aang whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Because even though he knew it was wrong and selfish, he also knew that it was so much easier to create new strands for his web of lies than to confess what he had done. He was just so afraid.

He just wanted his friend back.


	6. Echoes of the Past

Everything had went wrong very quickly during the trade for King Bumi. It had all started with one person as well: _Princess Azula_

"What's wrong with him?" Lee heard someone mutter, but the voice seemed so far away, like a whisper carried on the wind.

"I don't know, but he won't stop shaking!"

"Can't you do something to help him?"

"I already tried, but that girl in pink did something to my bending. I can't do a thing!"

"Well, at least we got him away from that crazy one with the blue fire. I just hope that Aang and Bumi are alright."

The girl said something in response, but Lee could barely distinguish the words. The world was fading in and out, drawing him back into the darkness. No, into the fire. He was wreathed in flames, sinking deeper into a tunnel of burning gold that wrapped itself around him like a web. There was no escape, no release. He was falling—falling just like he had done when lightning had pierced into his shoulder, sending shockwaves of white-hot energy throughout his body and squeezing at his heart. This time, however, there was no ocean to greet him. There was only fire.

_"You'll never catch up."_

The words were a whisper, a threat. It seemed important to remember this, but it was as if his thoughts had lost their anchor and were now drifting off in whatever direction the current took them, slipping from his grasp as fast as he clutched at them. He couldn't hold onto the memories any longer. As the flames dragged him deeper into unconsciousness, he saw an image of a girl with the amber eyes looming over him like some dark goddess painted across the skies, watching him as he fell.

She was smiling.

oOo

The room was swathed in red and gold. Azula stared at her reflection, meeting the amber eyes that stared back at her. Eyes that were just like her mother's. Even their lips were the same, but the expression that curved her mouth had always been sharper, more calculating. It was Zuko who had got all of Ursa's softness, Zuko who had always needed to be reassured and loved and who was so sensitive to other people's pain, even the stupid turtle-ducks that he and their mother had used to feed together.

Azula gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists on the dresser so that her knuckles flared white. It was his own fault that she had killed him. He should never have resisted her. He should have realised that he was completely outclassed, but Zuko had always been stubborn, idiot that he was. So she had decided to put him in his place once and for all. She had wanted to remind him why their father had always called her the only firebending prodigy in the family.

No one had ever mastered lightning so quickly. She knew Zuko would be impressed when he saw the technique, but ever since she had seen him fall over the side of the ship, there were moments where she wondered if she had ever really meant to hurt him that much. He had screamed so loud, and the way he had just crumpled like a paper figure crushed in her fist had seemed strangely jarring to her in her moment of triumph. Zuko had always been weak, but never that weak. Never that fragile.

"It was his own fault," she repeated.

But the whispers in her mind kept repeating "monster" over and over, because in her heart she had known that Zuko would not have been able to block the lightning. And she never made mistakes.

Did she?

Azula's expression hardened. "So what if I killed him?" she muttered, glaring at her reflection—at any scrap of Ursa that she could see upon the mirrored surface. "It was what Father had been hoping for when he first banished Zuko. Everyone knew the truth. Everyone except my idiot of a brother. Father had always wanted me to be the heir apparent, and now I am." Her mouth curved into a cruel smile. "_Now I am_."

She had no reason to regret her actions. Zuko was probably better off where he was and—

_"Not one more step."_

Azula's smile vanished. That masked swordsman had sounded just like Zuko. For a moment she had even thought it was her brother trying to block her from the Avatar, but the way he had moved was all wrong, and even though she was aware that Zuko had been interested in weapons as a child, she'd never seen him wield dual dao blades. Nor did she think that her brother would ally himself with the Avatar, especially not after spending three years searching and failing to capture the boy.

No, there was no way that the masked swordsman could be Zuko. Her brother had been killed that day on the ship. But that didn't change the fact that there had just been something so familiar about the warrior. It was a feeling that reached deep into her soul, as if he were an echo of some intrinsic part of her identity that had been lost a long time ago.

_"It's okay to be scared, Azula."_

_"I'm not scared. I just can't sleep with all of this stupid thunder making so much noise, and if I have to stay awake then so do you."_

_The young boy smiled and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a loose embrace. She thought about pushing him away, because she wasn't afraid and didn't need to be babied, but the lightning was so bright and the explosions of thunder almost sounded like an army of firebenders storming the palace. Before she knew it, she was leaning in closer to his body, taking comfort in his solid warmth._

_"I'm not scared," she repeated fiercely._

_"I know," he murmured, resting his head against hers so that she could feel the smoothness of his left cheek brushing against her skin. "I just figured you might be cold."_

_She hid her face against his shoulder so that he would not see her small grin. Sometimes, she really liked her brother when he wasn't acting like such a big dum-dum._

Azula blinked, allowing the memory to fade back into the recesses of her mind. Suddenly, it was not her mother that she could see staring out from her reflection, but Zuko's face: unscarred and handsome, just as it had been before his banishment. Before she had been left alone.

Her eyes narrowed. "So, Brother, you think to haunt me as this Blue Spirit, do you?"

She'd heard stories about certain spirits entering the physical world to seek revenge for those who had been unjustly killed. It would be just like the spirits to take pity on her weakling brother. Precious little Zuzu who could never do anything right but whom everyone seemed to love, even with all of his imperfections. Still, that didn't explain why the masked warrior had fallen apart like that in front of her, as if he had started having some kind of fit. Spirits wouldn't do that, would they?

Azula was still pondering this problem when someone knocked at the door. "Enter," she said sharply.

There was the sound of a handle being turned and she watched on the reflective surface of the mirror as Mai and Ty Lee advanced into the room. She turned to face the two girls, her expression cold. "Well?"

Mai bowed her head. "No sign of them, Princess Azula. The Avatar and his friends have definitely escaped the city; however, they seem to have left King Bumi behind."

"Yeah, it was really strange," Ty Lee said, pressing her finger to her cheek. "We found him on the high platform just waiting for us to raise him back up on the chain."

"It could be worth investigating further," Mai observed. "It does seem odd that the Avatar and his friends would waste their time trying to rescue the king only to then leave him."

"Forget about the old man," Azula said impatiently. "Whatever the Avatar was wanting from King Bumi, he got it. You can be assured of that. Besides, we have much more important matters to settle."

Ty Lee grinned. "We're going to track down your uncle, right?"

"It's not just Iroh now." Azula's expression hardened. "We have a second target."

And this time she would not let the Avatar slip through her grasp. Blue Spirit or not, the last airbender would be hers to claim.

oOo

It was quiet inside the tent. Aang sat with Momo huddled on his lap, just staring at the boy lying unconscious on Katara's sleeping pallet. The Blue Spirit mask was still covering Zuko's face—no thanks to Katara, who had been ready to remove it before Aang had stopped her with much arm-waving and exclamations—but that didn't bother Aang. He was just glad that Zuko was no longer shaking. He was just glad to hear the soft inhale and exhale of Zuko's breathing, because there was no denying that something had gone terribly wrong. The worst part was that no one seemed to know how to fix it either.

"Don't worry, Momo," Aang murmured, giving the lemur an absent pat. "I haven't started getting those weird feelings yet, so whatever is wrong with him can't be that bad, right?"

Momo gazed up at Aang with big green eyes and then started licking his paw. Aang sighed and shifted his attention back to Zuko, or Lee as he was supposed to call him now. The thought still made his stomach twist with guilt. Sometimes, he wondered if it was his fault that Zuko was in this mess. Those girls had been Fire Nation after all, and it was only when Zuko had tried to confront that bender with the blue fire that he'd started to show any real signs of distress.

"Perhaps I should have told you the truth," Aang said. "It would have been easier then, back when you first told me about your amnesia. I just ... I just didn't know what would happen if I did." He swallowed, conscious of the painful lump in his throat. "I didn't want you to hate me again."

"Hate you for what?"

Aang jumped at the sound of the new voice. He spun around to see Katara watching him with a frown. He hadn't even heard her enter the tent. "N-nothing," he stammered. "I was just, uh—"

"I thought the Blue Spirit was your friend. He saved your life—twice, in fact. Why would he hate you?"

Aang lowered his head. "It's complicated."

"You mean you don't want to talk about it," she observed shrewdly.

He flinched a little but remained silent. He knew it was true.

Katara folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I just hope you know what you're doing. Gran Gran always told me that keeping a secret from someone is like walking over thin ice: eventually it's going to crack. If there is something that you've been hiding from Lee, perhaps you should tell him before it gets any more out of hand. At the very least, it might help him remember something about his past."

"I know," Aang said softly. "I just …" He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."

Because there was no way that Katara could understand his predicament. She thought he was keeping secrets from Lee, the masked waterbender turned swordsman. She had no idea it was Zuko under the mask, no idea that the boy she had been trying to help was the same as the one she had grudgingly healed in the North Pole all of those weeks ago. Aang didn't like to dwell on the fact that the only reason she remained ignorant of this knowledge was because he had not been able to bring himself to tell the truth when she had first asked about the Blue Spirit's identity.

"Has your bending returned yet?" he asked, deciding to change the subject.

Katara nodded. "I was going to try healing Lee now. I don't know how much good I'll be, since his condition seems to be more mental than physical, but I still might be able to get him to wake up."

"Well, you won't know until you try, right?" Aang gathered Momo into his arms and moved aside, giving her more space for bending. "Let's do this!"

Wordlessly, Katara took her place beside him and then summoned her element from the water skin hanging at her waist. Aang watched with interest as she placed her glowing hands on either side of Zuko's head, searching for his meridian paths to check for any sign of chi knots. In his mind, Aang could almost envision the water slipping through to merge with the fiery colours of Zuko's energy, blending in a swirl of gold and healing blue. But then Katara pulled back and the image he had been creating shattered as he saw the expression on her face. She looked terrified.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling his chest tighten in panic. "Can you heal him?"

Katara guided the liquid surrounding her hands back into her water skin. "I can't reach him."

"What?"

Her eyes met his, wide and filled with fear. "It's like there's this thick wall surrounding his mind and it's not letting anything through. Everything has been blocked."

Aang's brow creased into a frown. "Do you think that's why he's been having so much trouble remembering his past?"

"Maybe," she said softly, glancing down at Zuko. "But you want to know the scary thing?"

"What?"

"When I came up against that wall, it didn't feel like I was hitting just any old barrier." Her gazed locked with his. "It felt like fire."

Aang swallowed, conscious of the way his mouth had gone dry. "What do you think it means?" he asked, almost dreading her answer.

"I don't know." She stared back at Zuko, and this time he could see the concern hidden amongst the fear in her eyes. "I really don't know, but I don't like it."

Aang stared at the mask that covered the scarred features of the Fire Nation prince. He thought he could guess why Zuko's mind felt like it was surrounded by a wall of fire. What he didn't understand was whether the barrier was of Zuko's creation or something much more sinister.

_What happened to you, Zuko?_

Aang wanted to speak the words aloud, to beg the prince for answers, if only to ease the sick worry building in his chest. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything, because Zuko only knew of himself as Lee, a non-bender or possible waterbender, and Katara was still there kneeling next to him, listening to every breath, every possible word. It was so frustrating, so distressing. More than that, though, was the ever-increasing knife of guilt being pushed deeper into his stomach.

Because now Aang understood that Katara's Gran-Gran had been right. Keeping secrets was like walking on thin ice, and the surface under his feet was already cracking.

oOo

There was no one in the tent when Lee awoke, a half-strangled scream choking his throat and his body covered in cold sweat. His heart was still pounding from whatever had jolted him awake, but he couldn't remember his dream now. Just that it had been dark and disturbing and filled with so much fire. So much pain.

He exhaled shakily and went to rub his face, only to feel his fingers collide with the painted wood of his mask. The temptation to rip it off was overwhelming. Ever since he had become the Avatar's ally, he barely got the chance to remove the disguise unless he excused himself to eat, and even then he was wary. Right now he wanted nothing more than to wrench the mask off his face and toss it away. The heat combined with the pulsing, repetitive stab of pain being tattooed into his skull was all just too much. He needed air. He needed to breathe.

But he couldn't remove the mask. Not now. Not when he finally understood the reason for it.

Lee allowed his fingers to slip away from the wooden edges and then he buried his face, mask and all, into his knees. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, his chest seemed to constrict with all of his pain, all of his despair, to the point where he felt as if his ribs were splintering inside of him. Now he knew why his memories had always been tinged with fire. Now he knew why people had stared at him oddly before he had hidden his features behind the cover of his Blue Spirit disguise.

_"He has the eyes."_

Lee curled his hands into fists, digging his fingers into the coarse fabric of his tunic. He didn't need to remove the mask to know what he would see: a scarred visage, too pale skin, and pale gold eyes.

Fire Nation eyes.

Heart clenching, he squeezed his eyes shut as if by doing so he could somehow erase the colour as well. He had travelled to Omashu to discover more about who he was and where he had come from, but not like this. Never like this.

Something heavy rustled in front of him, the sound of fabric being pushed aside. He heard a gasp and then the thud of knees hitting the ground. Two hands gripped his arms.

"Lee!" a voice cried, frantic with worry. "Lee, are you alright?"

Lee raised his face from his knees and met the concerned grey eyes that stared back at him. Aang smiled in relief. Half-forgotten words rushed back into Lee's mind:

_"You're a good person, Lee. No matter what anyone else tells you, I hope that you will remember that."_

_"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"_

_"It's complicated. Let's just say I think it'll be safer for everyone if you keep that mask on."_

The pain squeezing Lee's heart intensified, but this time there was anger as well. "You knew," he accused hoarsely, breaking away from Aang's grip so that the boy almost stumbled backwards. "You knew this whole time!"

Aang regained his balance and stared at Lee with wide, startled eyes. "Knew what?"

Lee let out a hiss of frustration and removed the mask from his face, revealing his skewed features and pale gold eyes. "At first I thought you told me to keep the mask on because of my scar, but now I know that it's because I simply don't look like other people from the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribes." His fingers tightened around the wooden mask. "I've seen green eyes, brown eyes, blue eyes, even grey like yours. But no one has gold eyes. The only people whose eye colour is similar are the—"

"Fire Nation," Aang finished for him, and then lowered his gaze. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Lee slipped the mask back on his face and looked the other way. "I'm guessing I must be of mixed blood," he said more quietly. "You get them sometimes in the Earth Kingdom. Not that many people like half-bloods." A bitter laugh. "No wonder I chose to wear a mask."

Aang started circling his thumbs round and round each other. "What if you weren't of mixed blood?" he asked, not raising his eyes. "What if … you really were just from the Fire Nation?"

Lee's head throbbed a little more violently, whispering of puzzle pieces of memory that still needed to be fitted together. However, the only image he could see in his mind was of the young girl burning the Earth Kingdom doll to ashes, the same girl who had later struck him with lightning on a boat made of Fire Nation steel.

Azula.

"I'm not like them," Lee said, clenching his hands into fists. "I—I can't be like them."

He hated the way his voice broke, exposing his distress and guilt. He didn't want to think that he had no scrap of redeeming blood in him. The people of the Fire Nation were monsters; he was living proof of that. The scar on the left side of his face had not been made by a waterbender, and it was their princess who had tried to murder him that day on the ocean. He couldn't, wouldn't, accept that his heritage could only ever amount to one of fire and blood. Besides, he could heal, couldn't he? That had to mean something, but—

But it didn't. Because water had never responded to him, and his skin was too pale and his eyes too gold, and—and he just wished he had never stepped foot onto that platform. He didn't want this. He didn't want this at all.

"You know," Aang said, choosing his words carefully, "I once told you that before the war I had a friend from the Fire Nation. His name was Kuzon."

"I remember."

"Then you'll know that I'm right when I say it's not our nation or our blood that makes us who we are. It's the choices we make."

Lee stared at him for a long moment. "Maybe you're right," he allowed, "but you and I both know that means nothing to the people who the Fire Nation has hurt." His voice took on a bitter edge. "Isn't that why you told me to keep wearing the mask? You were afraid of how your friends might react if they knew the truth."

Aang dropped his gaze to the floor, his face downcast. The silence that filled the space between them was tense and filled with unspoken words, but it was also the only confirmation Lee needed. He gripped his knees more tightly and looked the other way, conscious of the hard lump forming in his throat. "I want to be alone for a while," he said in a flat voice.

"But—"

"I said I want to be alone!" Lee growled, swinging back around to glare at him.

Aang held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Okay, okay. I'm leaving."

Lee said nothing and stared back across his knees at the tent. His eyes narrowed as the bubbling mixture of rage and hurt battered against his ribcage, screaming to break free. It was a relief when he heard the rustle of fabric being pushed aside, but then Aang paused on the threshold.

"I hope you know this doesn't change anything between us. I still want to be your friend, if you'll let me."

Lee remained silent. He thought he heard Aang sigh and then everything went quiet. When he glanced back towards the door, Aang was gone. It didn't make him feel any better.

oOo

The stars were just beginning to appear in the darkening sky like tiny pearls scattered on a sea of purples and blues. Katara frowned at the tent. "He still hasn't come out," she muttered, and stood up from where she had been sitting by the fire. "I'm going to go check on him."

"Aang said that Lee wanted to be left alone," Sokka reminded her, not raising his eyes from the ship he was carving in his hand.

"But—"

"He'll talk to us when he's ready."

She sighed and sat back down. "I guess you're right. I just hope he's okay. You saw what happened to him on the platform."

"I doubt that Aang would have left his side if he thought that Lee was still in a critical condition." Sokka turned his head to look towards the hills that surrounded Omashu. "Speaking of Aang, what's taking him so long? He should have been back by now."

Katara followed the direction of her brother's gaze. "You don't think anything happened to him, do you?"

"He was only going to drop the baby off at the governor's house. How hard can that be?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but then she saw a masked figure emerge from the tent. Suddenly, she was back on her feet. "Lee!" she exclaimed, walking towards him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." He paused and surveyed the campsite. "Where's Bumi?"

Katara frowned. "Didn't Aang tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Bumi stayed behind," Sokka explained, placing his knife and the wooden figure he had been carving down on the ground. "He said he needed to listen and wait for the right moment to strike, or something like that."

Lee's hands curled into fists. "I see."

Katara placed her hand on his arm. "You were hoping he could give you some information about the path of the ancient ways, right? Aang mentioned as much to us."

He wrenched himself free of her grip. "Well, it's nice to know the Avatar has seen fit to share everything about me with you. Tell me, is there anything he hasn't told you? Because I seem to be the only person who doesn't know anything around here."

She stared at his masked face, at his tense shoulders and clenched fists. In that moment, he reminded her of a coiled spring waiting to be unleashed. A crease formed on her brow. "Are you angry?"

He let out a small breath and turned his back on her. "No," he said quietly. "I just—it's nothing. Forget it."

She exchanged a glance with her brother, who shrugged and held his hands up in the air as if to say he didn't know why Lee was getting all worked up either. Katara frowned and took a step closer to Lee. "You know," she said gently, "Aang only told us about your amnesia because he didn't want us to bother you with too many questions; he said you wouldn't like that. And he only told us about your search for the path of the ancient ways because Sokka kept pestering him about what your intentions were for coming with us to find King Bumi."

"What?" Sokka demanded when they both turned to look at him. "No offence, Lee, but we've only known you for a few days. I was just being cautious."

"No, you were being rude," she responded, placing her hand on her hip.

Sokka opened his mouth to retort, but Lee got there before him.

"Look, I don't care about any of that. I'm sure I would have behaved exactly the same if I were in your position."

"Then what's wrong?" Katara asked, glancing back up at him in a vain attempt to meet his gaze.

"Nothing," he repeated. "I'm just tired and I wish this stupid headache would go away." He rubbed the side of his head, as if just mentioning it had made the pain worse.

She twisted her lips into a frown. "Is it because of what happened today when you, um—"

"Lost it?" Sokka supplied.

She glared at her brother. "That is not what I was going to say."

"No, but it's true," Lee said flatly. He sighed and sat on the ground, staring hard at the fire. "I don't know what happened. Sometimes I get headaches when I sense that something is familiar to me or when a memory returns. Today it was just worse, I guess."

Katara sat next to him. "You know, you really scared us this morning. None of us knew why you collapsed like that, and then you wouldn't stop shaking." She stared down at her lap. "I was really worried about you."

He gave her a swift glance. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not," she allowed, "but that doesn't mean I don't care."

Lee said nothing. Instead he just stared at her, his mask glinting with the orange glow of the fire. Katara wished she could see his expression to know what he was thinking. The demonic grin painted onto his Blue Spirit disguise didn't exactly reveal much. Still, she thought she might have surprised him with her remark. Somehow, she got the feeling that no one had showed him much affection before. It made her that much more determined to prove to him that not everyone was out to get him. Some people genuinely did just care, like her.

Sokka rubbed his chin in thought. "Hold on. You said that you get these headaches when you sense that something is familiar to you. Does that mean you recognised those girls we fought today?"

Lee nodded. "That girl with the blue fire, Azula, she tried to kill me once. I don't know why or when. I just know that it happened."

Katara had to resist the urge to grip his hand. "I'm sorry. It's no wonder you had such a bad reaction to her."

"Don't be," he said dismissively. "I don't think that was the first time someone tried to kill me." He threw the bit of dried grass that he had been fidgeting with into the fire and his voice lowered as if he were speaking more to himself. "But if I ever see her again, I'll make sure that she pays for what she did."

Katara watched the grass shrivel to nothing as it was consumed by the flames. She didn't doubt the sincerity of his words, nor did she think it was a bad thing that he wanted to get revenge. Her fingers closed around the necklace hanging from her throat. There were some grievances that could not be forgiven.

Oblivious to his sister's darker thoughts, Sokka leaned back on his palms and considered Lee. "It's a pity you don't remember more of your past. It sounds like you've had a lot of dealings with the Fire Nation. We could use that kind of information."

Lee twitched. "What makes you think I know anything about the Fire Nation?"

"Apart from the fact that they all want to kill you?"

Katara frowned at her brother. "You know, Sokka, there is such a thing as having tact. Maybe you should learn to use it sometime."

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you, oh-condescending-one. Look, all I'm saying is that Lee obviously knew his stuff before he lost all his memories. How else would he have known where to find Aang when he got captured by Admiral Sideburns?"

"It's not exactly difficult to sneak into a fortress," Lee said with a shrug. "I got into Omashu fine without being seen and I'm pretty sure I've never been to that city before."

Sokka pursed his lips, perhaps remembering their own less than graceful method of entering the city through the sewers. "Right. Well, freakish stealth skills aside, that still doesn't explain why you were near Pohuai Stronghold in the first place, let alone how you knew that Aang had been captured."

"I guess we'll never know," Lee responded with a bitter edge to his voice, "because I don't even remember rescuing the Avatar, and I still have no leads for finding more about the path of the ancient ways."

Katara was about to speak when a flash of a different kind of orange caught her attention. She looked up to see Aang drop to the ground in front of them, spinning his glider shut as he did so. Momo and Appa immediately came over to greet their friend: Appa lathering the airbender with slobbery kisses while Momo chirruped and jumped up and down on his shoulder. Aang laughed and gave each a friendly pat, then paused.

"What?" he said. "Have I got Appa drool all over my face?"

"Well, yes," Sokka admitted, "but that's not the point. How did it go?"

"Oh, fine." A smile curved Aang's mouth. "The governor and his wife both seemed really happy to have their son back."

"What took you so long?" Katara asked. "We were getting worried."

Aang's grin faltered. "I was going to visit Bumi again—just to say goodbye, you know, since I don't know when I'll next see him again—but in the end I decided it was too dangerous. They've got guards swarming all around the place."

Lee stood up. "Maybe too dangerous for you, but not for me. I'm going back. I can't just sit here when there's still a chance that old man has the information I need."

"Wait." Aang gripped his arm. "I already asked Bumi about the path of the ancient ways for you."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? What did he say?"

Aang frowned. "Well, actually he just laughed and told me the same thing that he always says."

"Which is?"

"That you had to stop thinking about the obvious and open your mind to the possibilities." Aang shrugged. "He said that only then would you find what you're looking for."

Lee made a frustrated noise. "Great. A riddle to answer a riddle. Now what am I supposed to do?"

Katara had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. "Why don't you come with us?" she suggested.

"What?" Lee said, sounding quite surprised.

"You might as well," Sokka said, leaning his chin on his hand. "We'll be leaving tomorrow to look for a new earthbending teacher for Aang. Maybe we can help you find what you're looking for as well."

Lee shook his head. "I work better alone."

But it was an empty excuse at best and as the three of them continued to pressure him into staying, Katara could tell that he hadn't quite dismissed the offer from his mind. In the end, it was Momo who made the decision for him. The winged lemur landed on Lee's head and made a few chirrups before curling up into a ball so that he resembled a furry hat.

"It seems that Momo has spoken," Katara observed, looking at Lee with a smile. "I guess you'll just have to stay."

And somehow that really was that. A bed was made for him inside the tent and the bag he had collected that morning from outside the city walls was placed beside their own. He didn't speak much to them for the rest of that night, but Katara still thought it was a good beginning. For some reason, their little gang just felt more complete with him there, as if the space he had come to fill had always been designed for him. She knew that they had made the right decision to let him join their group.

Still, there was one thing that troubled her. She had not forgotten about the wall of fire she had sensed surrounding his mind, nor the peculiar whisper of energy she had felt intermingled with the flames.

_"You rise with the moon. I rise with the sun."_

Katara shoved the thought aside before it could take proper root in her mind, refusing to even indulge in the idea. It was just a coincidence that their energy felt similar, just like it had at first surprised her to hear Lee speak in those raspy tones she had only ever associated with one person. For all she knew that might just be what fire felt like, and who was to say that a firebender hadn't done something to Lee's mind?

_Stop being stupid, Katara_, she scolded herself. _You know that Lee isn't Zuko, so why do you keep fretting over the matter?_

She had no answer for that, but in the end it didn't matter. She'd already banished the thought from her mind once; it was easy enough to do it again. And if it took her a bit longer to fall asleep that night, well, she chose not to dwell on the reasons for why. What mattered was that Lee was with them now. What mattered was that he was safe, and Katara knew that she would do her utmost to help him.

After all, Lee was part of the family now.

oOo

The moon stretched her hands far into the night, bathing the world in a veil of silver. Lee frowned and glanced back towards the tent where the others were sleeping. He wondered why he had agreed to stay with them. He wondered why he even wanted to continue with this mad journey.

_You could still turn back_, a voice whispered in his mind.

Lee resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his ears. He was sick of hearing that voice. It had been pestering him from the moment he had first woken up and realised that he had Fire Nation blood in him. It was the voice of fear, of cowardice and weakness, and it was far too persuasive for its own good.

Back in Fei's town, he had been offered a chance to forget about his past and start again as Lee the Earth Kingdom boy. It would have been a new life, one that was still possible for him to have if he just gave up this quest for knowledge and returned to the healer's house. He knew that Fei and her family would welcome him. There was nothing to stop him from going back, nothing but his own inexplicable need to keep moving forward. There were still things that he didn't know, and even though it frightened him to think what else he might learn about his past, it seemed so much worse to just turn back now simply because he didn't like what his memories were telling him.

Lee pulled out the dagger from his tunic and unsheathed the blade, examining the characters that had been etched onto the side. Someone had given this dagger to him. Someone had wanted him to read that message and let it sink into his heart, so that he would know what to do when those difficult decisions were placed before him.

So that he would know how to face his fears, even when all hope seemed lost.

He closed his eyes, tightening his grip on the dagger. "I won't give up," he whispered.


	7. Following the Silver Trail

The tavern was rowdy. There was a group of men drinking and laughing as they watched two muscled fighters competing in an arm-wrestling match—rough men who emanated an overwhelming stench of alcohol, blood and sweat, and who wore their weapons for all to see. Mercenaries. To the left, a row of women leaned over the side of the banister, putting on their best come hither expressions in the hopes of earning a bed to share for the night. There was a time when Iroh would have been distracted by those provocative looks, but he had no trouble ignoring them now.

Making his way through the crowd with a benign smile and a nod to whoever blocked his path, he stopped at a table in the far corner where three older men had stationed themselves. They were playing a dice game, but they paused when Iroh's silhouette cast a shadow over their table.

"Can we help you?" one of the men asked, scratching at his bushy side-whiskers.

Iroh spread his hands in a friendly gesture. "I couldn't help but notice you were playing Sānliù Bàozi. I was hoping you would let me join you. I have been travelling for many days and would enjoy a respite to rest my old legs, and some good company," he added with a grin.

The men chuckled and pulled out a seat for him, inviting him to sit and introducing themselves as they continued to play their game. Side-whiskers turned out to be a tanner named Boqin, the quiet gentleman to his right with the green scarf disclosed that his name was Gui and that he was a trader in a little bit of everything, but at the moment was selling masks. The last was a retired tailor named Peng, who was famed for his three-tooth smile.

"And what should we call you?" Boqin asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yingjie," Iroh responded, and then winked. "But I am also known as a master of tea."

The three Earth Kingdom men chuckled some more.

"A master of tea, he says," Peng observed with a wheezy little laugh. "Well, we shall have to test that boast of yours, Tea Master. In the meantime, why don't you show us your skill with a die?"

Iroh nodded, still smiling as he accepted the proffered dice. He rattled them about in his hand and released the three dice with an expert flick of his wrist. All four men watched as the wooden cubes landed to show the four, five and six facing upwards.

Peng groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I don't think we should have let him join us, Boqin. Our Tea Master is clearly a master at Sānliù Bàozi as well."

Iroh gave a hearty laugh as his winnings were pushed towards him. "Don't sell yourself short just yet, my friend. The winds of luck may still yet turn in your favour."

Peng still did not seem impressed that their new acquaintance had beaten them so quickly, but it was agreed that they would have another round. Gui started them off by rolling two fours and a three, which he then wrote down on the slate resting near his elbow. Conversation flowed easily between the four as Boqin, Iroh and Peng each had their turn, with Gui continuing to keep a tally of their points. It was as Boqin was getting ready to complete his third roll that attention turned back to Iroh.

"So, what brings you to Yangshuo?" the tanner asked, releasing the dice to more of Peng's groans as three fives appeared.

Iroh gathered the dice in his hand, pausing a moment before he spoke. "I lost my teashop in a Fire Nation attack some time ago. My nephew and I were forced to flee our home, but we got separated as we were travelling. I've been searching for him since." He sighed, both for added effect and out of genuine disappointment. "I had been led to believe that I might find him within this region, but so far I have found nothing, not even a whisper."

"Fire Nation scum," Peng muttered, and then spat. "They ruin everything. Burn down our homes, steal our earthbenders, and destroy our families! Not to mention the taxes they make us pay!"

"Quiet, you old fool!" Gui hissed. "You know that Captain Yaozu has his spies everywhere. Do you want to get yourself taken off to the prisons?"

Peng grumbled something under his breath about firebenders and what he would do if he were only ten years younger, but no one paid much attention to his muttering.

Boqin reached out and gripped Iroh by the shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear of your troubles, Yingjie," he said with open sympathy. "I do not wish to give you false hope, but we often have refugees pass through this way. Perhaps your nephew was one of them. What does he look like?"

Iroh played with the dice in his hand. This was the question he had been hoping for. It was far easier to get information out of people without arousing suspicion when they were the ones asking the questions, but he always had a moment of hesitation whenever he came to answer. The last time he had seen Zuko was on Admiral Zhao's ship, just before his nephew had gone to infiltrate the Northern Water Tribe and capture the Avatar. But that was Prince Zuko. Iroh was quite aware that, if he was indeed right in thinking that his nephew was still alive, Zuko would not resemble much of a Fire Nation prince now.

"My nephew is about a head taller than me," Iroh said slowly. "Black hair, young—only sixteen—and he has a burn scar on his face, right here." He placed his hand over his left eye, allowing his fingers and palm to outline the same comet-like mark that had been burned onto Zuko's features.

Gui tightened his grip on his drink. "I have seen a boy of that description. He was here in this town."

Iroh inhaled sharply. "Are you sure?"

There had been so many boys with scarred faces, so many times when he had got his hopes up only to have them crushed once again. He didn't know if he could bear to experience another disappointment.

Gui stared into the contents of his cup. "I'd never forget that young man's face," he said quietly.

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. There was a story behind those words, but now was not the time to be distracted with tales from the past. He had to find out if this boy Gui spoke of was indeed his nephew. He had to know.

Iroh set the dice down on the table and met the trader's gaze. "Can you tell me where I might find this young man?"

Gui shook his head. "You'd have to ask Tung-Mei. She was the one who had the boy staying with her. I only saw him once."

"Tung-Mei?"

Boqin smiled. "Our local healer. Her house is on the northern outskirts of the town. You can't miss it."

Iroh stood up and bowed to each of the men. "Thank you for your help, but I'm afraid I will have to cut our game short. I'm sure you understand."

The three old men assured him that of course they understood and that they wished him all the best in the search for his nephew. Iroh smiled and made his goodbyes, stating that he would have to play them again—and brew them some of his finest tea—the next time he passed through this way. Peng and Boqin both greeted these words with hearty laughs and jokes, but Gui remained quiet. Iroh was not surprised when the trader followed him to the door.

"Is that boy really your nephew?" Gui asked, holding Iroh's gaze.

"I can only hope," Iroh said with a strained smile. "It has been a long time since we have seen each other. My only wish is to be reunited with him again."

Gui fidgeted with a loose thread on his scarf. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then let out a small breath. "If you see him again, tell him that I kept his secret."

Iroh's eyes narrowed a fraction. "What secret?"

A wry smile. "If he is indeed your nephew, I'm sure you will find out."

An appreciative laugh escaped the old general. "You are a good man, Gui. I will remember that."

Gui nodded in acknowledgement and then Iroh took his leave, though now with a much heavier pocket. He grinned as he listened to the copper and silver pieces rattling about in his money pouch. Gambling was not something he always condoned, but it did come in handy when one was on the run and feeling a little short on change. Tonight had turned out much better than he expected. Just the thought of having a new lead to his nephew's whereabouts made his heart swell with joy and relief.

The sound of the tavern door swivelling back and forth drifted to his ears. He paused to glance over his shoulder and a brief frown passed over his features when he saw some of the mercenaries standing on the porch and glancing his way. When they started following in his footsteps, Iroh carried on walking and even started humming a small tune. Crunch, crunch, crunch went the sound of the warriors' feet, getting closer the farther he got from the main square. Iroh clasped his hands in front of him and hummed a little louder, looking quite relaxed.

A spiked mace was suddenly shoved in front of his face. Iroh looked up to see a large man with tattoos covering one side of his cheek. He didn't need to check behind him to know that he was surrounded.

"Good evening," Iroh said amiably. "Nice night for a walk, isn't it?"

The tattooed mercenary looked a bit nonplussed for a moment, but he pulled himself together a second later. "Give us your money, old man! Unless, of course, you want to have your brains spilled over the road."

Iroh stared at the group of men with a measuring look. He knew that he could take them out with his firebending. He also knew that he had a good chance even without his bending. The mercenaries, while intimidating for their size, were certainly no Rough Rhinos. But Iroh had not made it this far by wasting his energy on every battle that came his way. Maybe once he might have jumped at the chance back when he had been just as hot-headed as his nephew, but he had learnt over the years to pick and choose his fights carefully. Now was not the time to show off his strength.

"I will give you the money," Iroh said, still keeping his tone friendly, "but know this: the sly cat-eagle knows when to hide its claws."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" a man clutching a broadsword demanded.

Iroh met his gaze steadily. "You flaunt your strength because you can, but you will never gain true respect as warriors if you continue to abuse and extort money from your fellow men."

The mercenary with the tattoos let out a great, belly-rumbling laugh. "Listen to the old man talk. Just shut up and give us the money, grey-beard. I grow tired of your jabbering."

"Very well." Iroh reached into his pocket.

"Hold it!"

All of them paused at the sound of the new voice, including Iroh. A smallish figure dropped down from the nearby building, clutching a sword that looked a little too large for him. The newcomer was dressed in black, but his face was covered by a blue mask with white streaks that formed a demonic grin—the Blue Spirit's mask. A crease formed on Iroh's brow. He had heard many tales about the Blue Spirit, not to mention had his own suspicions concerning the warrior's identity. He knew without a doubt that this was not the same masked swordsman who had once freed the Avatar from Pohuai Stronghold.

The mercenary with the tattoos turned his mace on the intruder. "So you must be the infamous Blue Spirit. You're a lot smaller than I imagined, but that's okay." He ran a finger along one of the spikes on his mace. "It'll just make it that much easier to crush you."

"I'd like to see you try!" the boy retorted, raising his sword.

Something in Iroh's stomach plummeted heavily, for the masked fighter was indeed just a boy, judging by his size and the soft, rather high-pitched quality to his voice. The leader of the mercenaries seemed to have come to the same conclusion, as a cruel smile curled his lips.

"Take your best shot, kid," he taunted. "Let's see if that sword of yours can do better at threatening me than your bratty mouth."

The boy made a frustrated sound and lunged with his sword, only to have it knocked aside—and indeed right out of his hands—by the colliding force of the mace. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the clang of the sword as it hit the ground. The man with the tattoos let out another of his great, belly-rumbling laughs.

"That was almost too easy," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "I can't believe Captain Yaozu and his men had trouble with you. You're nothing but a weak, snivelling little brat!"

The boy took a step backwards and tripped on an uneven bit of ground, making him fall onto his backside with a yelp of surprise. Unable to suppress a whimper, he started to scramble away, but one of the other mercenaries kicked him in the side before he could escape, forcing him back towards their leader. Iroh clenched his fists as he heard the shrill cry of pain that escaped the boy's throat. He had witnessed enough.

Still smiling cruelly, the man with the tattoos planted his boot on the boy's stomach and raised his mace. "Say goodbye, Blue Spirit."

The spiked end began to fall, but Iroh grabbed the handle and struck a hard blow to his head. The other mercenaries blinked as their leader dropped to the ground with a thud, allowing the boy to get back to his feet and run for cover. Before the other men could even think to react, Iroh discarded the mace and snatched the length of chain from the mercenary to his right, whirling it around his head in a tornado of metal before he brought it down in a lashing loop, sweeping three of the mercenaries off their feet in one clean strike. Only two were left standing.

"Watch out!" the boy cried.

Iroh ducked just in time as an axe came careening for his face. He flicked the chain up and around him, weaving it around his body like a shield of corporeal wind before letting it shoot forward with all the speed of a lunging snake to hit his opponent in the forehead. The man keeled over in an instant.

"Behind you! Behind you!"

Spinning in a flash of brown and grey, Iroh latched the chain around the charging mercenary's leg and dragged him to the ground before he could have a chance to strike. A hard elbow to the head dealt with that one and then Iroh was moving onto the next man, picking up a discarded sword as he went. They clashed in a collision of metal against metal, blades scraping against each other in a ringing screech only to clash again as Iroh parried a blow and followed up with a quick counterattack that pushed his opponent back several paces. Something shifted the air near his face. He instinctively moved left, narrowly missing being stabbed with a spear. He'd been flanked.

Warily, he took a step back to position himself between the two men so that he could defend from either if necessary. His breath was coming a little faster now, reminding him that he was not as young as he used to be and that it had been a while since he had relied solely on anything but bending to win a fight. It was a frustrating situation, for he knew that the battle would have been over in three seconds if he'd been able to use his firebending. But he couldn't. He was a wanted man hiding in the Earth Kingdom and Zuko was still out there somewhere. It would be foolish to jeopardise his chances to find his nephew now.

Iroh took a firmer grip on the chain wrapped around his left arm and watched as sword and spear raced towards him. In one fluid motion he brought his sword up to meet the spear while the chain worked as a shield to deflect the other man's blade from slicing through his forearm, even if it couldn't protect him from the resounding pain that jolted through the limb. Both men broke away, already preparing for a combined counterattack, but this time Iroh didn't bother to defend; he side-stepped out of their path as they both lunged to strike. Spear and sword glided by each other and then made contact with vulnerable walls of flesh, leaving both mercenaries collapsing to their knees as blood oozed out from their wounds.

Now there was only one left.

Pausing to catch his breath, Iroh turned to see what had happened to the last mercenary. A sharp cry ripped through the air. His heart thudded in a violent pulse against his ribs. It was with a sickening presentiment that he looked towards the building to where the sound had originated. The boy had not run as he had hoped. Instead, Iroh saw the masked figure kneeling on the ground, clutching at his stomach and hiccupping on half-choked sobs. In front of him stood a man wielding a chicken-sabre sickle, getting ready to inflict the finishing blow.

Iroh didn't hesitate. He threw the sword at the mercenary with all of his strength, hitting the chicken-sabre sickle aside in a ringing clash of metal. Round and round went the clawed weapon, spiralling through the air like a silver spinning top before it and the broadsword clattered to the ground some distance from the building. The mercenary let out a growl and charged at Iroh, but he simply shifted to the left and put his foot out, tripping his opponent. A few seconds later and the man was trussed on the ground like a pig-rooster, trapped flat on his stomach while his wrists and ankles were bound together from behind with the chain. Judging by his angry splutters, he wasn't happy about it either.

Iroh ignored the mercenary's insults, as well as the groans and curses he could hear from the others. He had warned them what would happen if they insisted on flaunting their strength; he had no sympathy for their plight now. Instead, he made his way to where the masked boy was huddled near the building. Muffled sobs could still be heard from behind the cover of the wooden mask. It was clear that the boy was trying not to cry.

"Are you alright?" Iroh asked gently.

The boy hiccupped a little and removed his hands from his stomach. Crimson glistened on his palms and fingers and there was a splotch of something dark spreading on the fabric of his tunic. Iroh repressed a sigh. He had hoped to avoid this.

"I need to check the wound to see how I can help you," he said, still keeping his voice calm so as not to frighten the child. "Will you let me do that?"

The boy nodded and pulled up his tunic to bare his stomach, revealing the gash that had been sliced into his skin and which even now was spilling blood. Wordlessly, Iroh knelt and tore off a strip of his own shirt, which he used to wipe away some of the blood to see how deep the chicken-sabre sickle had entered, as well as if any vital organs had been touched.

"Is it bad?" the boy asked, sniffling a little.

"A little more to the left and you might have had a problem, but the cut itself isn't deep. A nice, clean wound, and one that should be easy enough to fix." Iroh smiled. "I had already planned on visiting the local healer tonight. It would be my honour to take you there so that you can be properly healed."

The boy agreed, if a little reluctantly. No doubt he was worried about having his identity discovered.

Iroh decided not to comment on that and handed over the torn cloth he had used to wipe away the blood. "Keep this on the wound," he said, placing the boy's hand over the gash. "It will help to stem the flow of blood until we get to the healer's home."

"Alright."

Iroh reached to pick up his injured charge, but a skinny arm was placed in his way.

"Wait, my sword," the boy said, looking around for any sign of his weapon. "Aunt Luli will kill me if she finds out I lost it."

"I think your aunt will be more upset to know that you got yourself hurt taking on a group of mercenaries by yourself," Iroh observed, picking up the dropped sword. "It was very brave what you did, of course, but perhaps not the wisest choice."

"You clearly don't know Aunt Luli," the boy said bluntly as he handed Iroh the scabbard strapped to his back. "Besides, I had to do something. You were just going to let them steal all your money!" The masked face tilted to the side as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Why did you let them bully you like that? You must have known you could defeat them, yet you just stood there."

Iroh gave a faint smile. "Sometimes we must pay a small price in order to reap great rewards. Those men wanted my money, but they would not have attacked me. I saw no need to draw unnecessary attention to myself just for the sake of keeping a few copper and silver pieces."

"But what those men were doing was wrong! Isn't it better to stop them so that they don't keep robbing and hurting people?"

Iroh sheathed the sword and slung the scabbard over his shoulder. "Perhaps, but being a powerful fighter does not give me the right to deal out justice wherever I see fit."

"I don't see why not."

Iroh's smile widened a fraction. "That is because you are like my nephew, young and angry. One day you will understand that it is better to have restraint when it comes to the battles you choose to fight. Consider the sabre-tooth moose lion: it does not attack every small creature that passes its way but waits until it or its cubs are truly threatened."

The boy tilted his head to the other side. "Is that supposed to be wise or something?"

Iroh chuckled. "Perhaps. In the meantime, I think we should just focus on getting you to the healer's house. That wound of yours isn't going to heal itself and I know it must be causing you a lot of pain."

"It does hurt," the boy admitted with another sniffle, which he then hastily disguised. "Not that I'm crying or anything. I'm not a child."

"Of course not," Iroh said gently, "but you will feel much better once you have seen the healer."

The boy murmured his agreement, which Iroh took as a sign that he had permission to continue. Careful not to hurt his injured charge any more than necessary, Iroh reached down and scooped him up into his arms. He was surprised at how light and small his burden turned out to be. This little swordsman was clearly younger than he had thought.

"Not too painful?" he asked, making his way towards the northern outskirts of town.

The boy shook his head. "I can handle it."

Iroh couldn't help but be impressed at the child's strength. Of course, thinking of that just reminded him of another boy who had been just as determined, just as brave. A boy he had promised to protect and who he had failed so miserably.

_Zuko._

Iroh closed his eyes, conscious of the piercing ache that encircled his heart. It had been so long since he had looked upon his nephew's face. He prayed that the healer would give him the information that he desired. He prayed that this would not result in being just another dead end.

But even for all the love and pain that he felt for his lost nephew, he knew that this was not the time to think of Zuko. The young swordsman in his arms was still bleeding, and Iroh knew better than to let himself get distracted at a time like this. He took a firmer grip on the boy and quickened his pace, noting how the number of houses began to decrease as they got farther from the main part of town. Soon, they came across a dirt path that led to a small house with a porch. Wind chimes could be heard and he could see the light glowing from within the shut blinds, welcoming them forward in a halo of orange. An ostrich-horse was grazing on the grass in an enclosed pen, and it stared at them now with bits of grass sticking out of its mouth.

"Is this it?" Iroh asked.

Before the boy could answer, the door to the house banged open and a girl in a brown dress stomped onto the porch with a bucket in her hand. "I know, I know!" she called over her shoulder, sounding a bit exasperated. "I'll put Oki to bed and then—" She froze when she caught sight of them and the bucket slipped free from her fingers. "Gran! Mum! Come quick! Someone has been hurt!"

Not waiting for a response, she raced down the dirt path to meet Iroh and ushered them both towards the house. Iroh could barely keep up with her questions, but then the boy removed his face from Iroh's chest, revealing the blue mask that covered his face, and she abruptly fell silent.

"Y-you," she stammered, going a bit pale. "I heard the rumours, but—" A crease formed on her brow. "Wait a minute. You're not the Blue Spirit."

Iroh felt the swordsman tense in his arms. "Perhaps this conversation can wait," he said. "Our friend here has been through a lot and needs to see the healer."

The girl flushed to the roots of her hair. "Of course. I'm sorry. Please, follow me."

She cast a fleeting glance at the boy dressed up as the Blue Spirit and led them inside just as an older woman was about to step onto the porch. The group halted. Interestingly, the same perplexed look crossed the woman's features as she took in the blue mask. Then she saw the bloody cloth that the boy was holding against his stomach and her expression shifted from confusion to composed dismay.

"Fei," she said calmly, "get me a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth and tell your grandmother to start preparing the tea for pain relief. She'll know which herbs to use."

"Right!"

The younger girl, Fei, darted off out the back. The woman, who Iroh assumed must be Tung-Mei, gestured Iroh to follow her and took him through the sliding partition to a room where a bed had been made on the floor. The smell of healing herbs was thick in the air, but the room was warm and welcoming. Carefully, Iroh placed the boy down on the bed, making sure not to jostle him too much so as to aggravate the pain. He placed the sheathed sword down on the floor beside the bed.

"Thank you," the boy mumbled.

"It is my pleasure," Iroh responded with a smile, then stood back to his feet and faced Tung-Mei. "I'm afraid it's my fault that our friend here got wounded. He was only trying to protect me from the mercenaries."

"He?" a new voice interrupted with a laugh, and they all turned to see an elderly woman standing in the doorway, clutching a bundle of herbs in her hands. "That's no boy. No Blue Spirit either. Isn't that right, Suyin?"

"Suyin?" Tung-Mei exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise as she stared at the masked figure.

The boy removed the mask to allow silky black hair to tumble free to his—no, _her_—shoulders, for as Iroh looked upon the downcast face, he saw that the little swordsman's lips, eyes and bone structure were all decidedly feminine. The old woman was right. This was no boy and definitely no Blue Spirit.

"How did you know?" Suyin asked, mouth forming a sulky pout as she stared at her hands.

"I have my ways," the sharp-eyed old woman answered. "In the meantime, why don't we worry about getting that wound of yours stitched up, hrm?"

As if on cue, Fei entered the room again with a bowl of water and a bundle of clean cloths. She paused when she saw the girl resting on the bed, but Tung-Mei put a stop to any further questions and stated that people either had to be quiet or leave. Suyin was hurt and any interrogations would have to wait until the wound had been healed and she was satisfied with her patient's condition. That was how Iroh found himself sitting at the square table in the kitchen and drinking tea with Fei and Qiao, Tung-Mei's mother-in-law.

"And so I brought Suyin with me here," Iroh said, after he had finished explaining how the young girl had got wounded.

"We've had problems with the mercenaries before, but it's never been like this," Qiao mused, rubbing her chin. "They were hired to help the Fire Nation keep control of the town after the Blue Spirit fought off four firebenders. I'm guessing Captain Yaozu offered to pay them extra should they kill the Blue Spirit as well. Suyin was very lucky that you were there."

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. "So the Blue Spirit really did come to this town?"

Fei and Qiao exchanged glances.

"I saw him fight the firebenders," Fei said, placing her cup down on the table. "He left after the battle. There were rumours that he was back in Yangshuo—sightings of a figure in a blue mask causing trouble for Captain Yaozu and the other Fire Nation soldiers, but I guess that must have been Suyin."

Iroh stroked his beard. He'd had his suspicions about the true identity of the Blue Spirit, but he had never confronted his nephew because a part of him had also understood why Zuko must have turned to the blue mask. At the age of thirteen, Zuko had been burned, banished, and set with an impossible task as his only way to redeem himself in his father's eyes. It would have been more surprising had he not tried to create a new identity for himself in which he could forget about the burdens of being a banished prince.

Besides, the Blue Spirit had never done anything wrong. Stopped a few cutthroats and thieves, maybe; eavesdropped on tactical conversations, definitely. However, the masked warrior had still stuck to a firm moral code. Iroh had taken great comfort in that, knowing that the way one behaved while in disguise said far more about a person than what one did under one's own name.

As such, Iroh had turned a blind eye to his nephew's solo expeditions. He had allowed Zuko to escape and be someone else, if only for a moment, but he had to admit that he did wonder about his motives now. Zuko was alone, no doubt feeling angry and betrayed, and clearly had no qualms about attacking Fire Nation soldiers. There was nothing comforting in this knowledge. More than ever did Iroh realise that he needed to find his nephew, and soon.

He was about to speak when the partition to the healing room slid back. Tung-Mei smiled at the three of them and said that Suyin was ready to see them now. Her gaze flickered to Qiao. "And don't you go scolding her to death, Mother. The poor girl has suffered enough tonight."

"Offering wisdom is not scolding," Qiao responded, "and that girl needs a whole lot of wisdom. She should have never tried to take on those mercenaries by herself."

No one could deny the truth of this statement, but Suyin showed little remorse when she was asked why she had dressed up as the Blue Spirit and behaved so recklessly. She complained that people didn't fight back in Yangshuo; they just let Captain Yaozu and his firebenders walk all over them, and it had got even worse since the mercenaries had come.

"I just wanted to show them that we're not afraid and that we won't be bullied," she said, clenching her hands into fists. "That's why I dressed up as the Blue Spirit, because I knew they were afraid of him."

Tung-Mei frowned. "Suyin, it's not that we don't want to fight back, but there is nothing that we can do. We're not warriors and we're not benders. We're just people trying to survive the best we can until this war is over."

"Now you just sound like Aunt Luli," Suyin muttered. "She's always going on about how I shouldn't draw attention to myself and that we just have to bide our time and that things will work out somehow. But they don't. The taxes just keep getting higher and the Fire Nation soldiers are still occupying the town. The truth is that she's just scared."

"And for good reason," Qiao interjected. "Think what would have happened had Yingjie not been there to help you tonight."

Suyin looked away, her bottom lip trembling.

Fei knelt and took the younger girl's hands within her own. "Suyin, I understand why you dressed up as the Blue Spirit. I wanted to do the same after that day in the market. Le—the Blue Spirit was an inspiration to us all. But Mum is right. We're not warriors, no matter how much courage we might feel in our hearts. Please, don't put yourself in danger like this again."

A few tears rolled down Suyin's cheeks. "They took away my parents, Fei. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

Fei looked up at her mother for help, but Tung-Mei just shook her head in a helpless gesture. Neither of them knew what to say to comfort the young girl. Qiao then stepped in to fill the void, telling Suyin that her parents would come back; she just had to be patient and not get herself into trouble.

"Just think how your parents would feel if they return and you've been hurt or aren't there to welcome them," Qiao pointed out.

"I guess," Suyin mumbled, looking down at her lap.

"Good. Then you'll know the best thing you can do right now is to stop worrying and get some rest."

"But what about Aunt Luli? She'll be—"

"Don't worry," Qiao said with a wry smile. "We'll deal with her tomorrow. For now, just try to get some sleep." Her grin widened a fraction. "Even twelve-year-old girls who claim to be vigilante warriors need their rest, you know."

Suyin blushed and looked away, but she didn't argue anymore and soon settled down in the bed, though Iroh thought the pain relief tea she had been given earlier might have had something to do with her sudden sleepiness. Tung-Mei, always the healer, picked up the bowl of bloody water and cloths and started ushering everyone out of the room, telling them to give Suyin some space. Iroh nodded and was about to stand up to follow Qiao and Fei when he felt a small tug on his wrist.

"Thank you," Suyin murmured.

He paused and smiled down at her. "You do not need to thank me, Suyin. I am just glad that I was there to help."

She made a sleepy noise that might have been in agreement and closed her eyes, allowing her hand to lose its grip on his wrist and drop back to the bed. Iroh pulled the blankets up around her more and smoothed the hair away from her face, wishing her peaceful dreams. He tried not to think of how he used to do the same for Lu Ten when his son was that age or how Zuko had never let him do so once.

Iroh closed his eyes, feeling the familiar ache press down on his heart. It was becoming so difficult to ignore the pain now, as if the absence of his nephew was a bruise that would never quite fade, just like the tender spot that had been created in his chest when Lu Ten and his wife had died.

_Enough._

Iroh pushed the memories of his family aside and stepped away from the bed, sparing one last glance at the sleeping girl before he exited the room. He found Qiao and Fei once more seated around the square table. They invited him to join them while Tung-Mei got a fresh batch of tea ready. He accepted the offer and watched as Tung-Mei used spark rocks to create a flame to heat the water. Watching the fire flicker to life was not as comforting as it usually was for him. Fire burned within his body, but it had also hurt the people of Yangshuo too much, along with many other innocents in the world.

A crease formed on his brow and he stroked his beard as he pondered over everything that he had heard that night. "Are Suyin's parents earthbenders?" he asked, focussing his attention on the two females opposite him.

Fei nodded.

"Strange," he mused. "I thought that the earthbenders had escaped the prison rig where they were being kept."

"We heard that too," Qiao admitted, "but none of the ones from Yangshuo returned. My guess is that they were probably captured again while trying to come home. There have been many Fire Nation troops patrolling this area of late."

Iroh nodded. "That would make sense since Omashu has been conquered by the Fire Nation. The Governor would want to make sure that no one could come to the city's aid."

Tung-Mei, Qiao and Fei all exchanged a startled glance.

"Lee," Fei breathed, clutching a hand to her heart. "Do you think he's alright, Gran?"

"I'm sure Lee would have seen the sense not to go strolling into an occupied city," Qiao responded, but her tone and the pointed look she gave to Fei suggested that this was not a conversation that she and her granddaughter should be having.

_There is a secret here_, Iroh thought.

Normally, he would have allowed the matter to slide, understanding that every family had their stories that they wished to keep hidden. However, it had also occurred to him that Fei had started saying a name beginning with L when she was speaking of the Blue Spirit. If his hunch was right, which he had a good feeling that it was, this "Lee" was most likely the same boy who Gui had mentioned had been staying with the healers. After all, there was no reason for a merchant who traded masks to remember one boy with a scar. Not unless that same boy had bought a blue mask and then fought off four firebenders with just a pair of swords.

"This might sound strange," Iroh said slowly, "but can you tell me what this Lee looked like?"

"Why would you want to know that?" Fei demanded in a voice that bristled with suspicion.

A sad smile touched Iroh's lips. "I'm looking for my nephew. A man named Gui told me that a boy of the same description had been staying with you in your house. I was actually on my way here to see if that was true, but then the mercenaries showed up and Suyin got injured."

"Your nephew?" Fei repeated, looking a bit dazed.

He nodded and gave a brief description of Zuko, followed by the same story that he had told Gui and the others of how he and his nephew had got separated. When he was finished, all three looked rather subdued.

"That does sound like Lee," Tung-Mei admitted. "It's a shame you didn't come earlier when he was still with us. That would have solved many of his problems."

"That's if this guy is even telling the truth," Fei muttered. "For all we know, Lee might not be his nephew at all."

"Fei!" Tung-Mei shook her head at her and then turned to Iroh. "I'm sorry, Yingjie. As you can see, my daughter is very protective of Lee. He was only a shell of himself when he first came to us. None of us want to see him get hurt like that again."

"Believe me," Iroh said with all the sincerity of a loving uncle, "I would not dream of hurting him. My nephew is like a son to me. All I want is to hold him in my arms again and know that he is safe."

Fei held his gaze steadily. "Fine. Prove to me that you are telling the truth. What does the inscription say on Lee's dagger?"

"Never give up without a fight." A faint smile touched Iroh's lips. "Or 'Made in the Earth Kingdom', if you look on the other side. I gave that dagger to him as a gift while I was fighting in the war. I wanted him to remember the words so that he would grow up to be a strong warrior."

"Then it's true," Fei said in wonder. "You really are his uncle."

Iroh nodded even as something warm encircled his heart, chasing away his fears. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. At last, he had found concrete proof that his nephew was alive.

"Can you tell me his real name?" Fei asked, resting her chin on her hand. "We only called him Lee because he couldn't remember anything when he first started talking, but—"

Iroh gripped the table so hard that his knuckles turned white. "What?"

Tung-Mei and Qiao exchanged a troubled glance.

"Please," Iroh said when they continued to remain silent. "Tell me what has happened to my nephew."

Qiao sighed and told him about how a traveller had dropped a wounded boy off at their house. The boy had not been able to speak and would barely move unless someone guided his limbs into action. Two days later he'd come back to his senses, but it turned out that he had lost his memories in the process. Fei gave him the name Lee for the sake of being able to call him something, but they never did figure out his real name or where he had come from, just that he had once called himself the Blue Spirit.

"All he could remember was that he had been running from someone," Fei murmured.

"And that he had been searching for something," Qiao added. "That's why we suggested he go to Omashu. We thought he might meet someone there who knew him or might be able to help him. We had no idea that the kingdom had been conquered by the Fire Nation. There has been no news from the city for a while now." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Yingjie."

Iroh slowly released his grip on the table. He knew he should say something, but he couldn't quite bring himself to speak. This was just so much to take in and a part of him wanted to believe that Qiao and her family were wrong. Zuko could not have forgotten everything, could not have forgotten him. Perhaps Zuko had just been trying to protect his own identity, knowing that Earth Kingdom citizens would not be welcoming to the Fire Nation prince, so he had pretended that he had lost his memories. Yes, that made sense.

But then Iroh remembered the way his nephew had barely seemed to recognise him that night after the explosion. He remembered how he had felt an inexplicable fear chill his bones, because something had whispered to his heart that Zuko was slipping away from him and that, if he didn't wake him soon, he might never hear that grumpy "Uncle" again. There was also the problem of how sincerely Qiao, Tung-Mei and Fei seemed to believe that "Lee" had lost his memories. Zuko was many things, but he had never been a good liar.

"Nephew," Iroh breathed in a pained whisper.

He covered his face with his hands, holding back the tears that prickled at his eyes as pain and regret formed hollow chasms in his heart, eating away at any of the brief joy he had felt. Dimly, he was aware of Tung-Mei placing a cup of tea before him and then sitting down to his left on the bench, but he said nothing. This was a harsh blow, for he could not help but feel responsible. If only he had not left Zuko at the North Pole. If only he had listened to his heart.

_I will find you, Nephew_, Iroh thought. _I will find you, and somehow we will fix this problem. We will piece your memories back together._

Iroh had made a promise. He would make sure that he kept it.

oOo

The moon was especially bright that night. Iroh saw it as a good omen. The celestial light had always been the traveller's friend for those from the Water Tribe: a silver guide that could lead one through even the darkest of waters. Iroh got the feeling that Yue, the young girl who sacrificed herself to become the Moon Spirit, wanted to help him. He knew he would need her light to find his nephew.

Zuko was lost in so many ways. While the healers had disclosed that he had left for Omashu, there was no saying if he had ever ended up going to the city. Iroh did not have the time for another wild goose-chicken chase. He had to find Zuko soon, and he knew that it would be too dangerous for him to enter Fire Nation territory with Azula hunting his head. That was why he had decided to send a message through the Order of the White Lotus to check if the Blue Spirit or a boy named Lee had passed through Omashu, and to see whether anyone knew what had happened to the earthbenders from Yangshuo. The city might be occupied, but the Order's line of communication could not be broken so easily. First, however, he would need to find a way to send the message.

Now with a firm plan in mind, Iroh settled his bag more comfortably over his shoulder and stepped off the porch. The sound of a door opening and shutting from behind him made him pause. He turned to see Qiao watching him with her arms folded across her chest. Her hair gleamed silver in the moonlight, giving her a strange radiance, but her expression was grim.

"You're from the Fire Nation, aren't you?" Qiao said in a matter of fact voice.

Iroh could have lied, but the knowing glint in her eyes suggested that she wouldn't believe him. Instead, he clasped his hands in front of him and forced himself to stay relaxed. "How did you know?" he asked.

"Your nephew. My granddaughter might not understand what it means to see a boy with fire-coloured eyes, but I do. However, it was the way he bowed to us that confirmed my suspicions."

Iroh looked at her with curiosity. "Yet you did not say anything and still helped him even though you knew the truth."

She sighed and uncrossed her arms. "I have lived through this war for too long. I do not like what the Fire Nation is trying to do, but I am not narrow-minded enough to believe that every person who was born to the lands of my enemy is evil. Lee needed our help, and that was all that mattered."

"Then I thank you." Iroh bowed to her in turn. "There are not many who can see past their own fear to help an enemy in need, however innocent. It is a relief to know that my nephew was in good hands while he stayed with you." He paused and reached into his pocket and pulled out a round wooden tile, which he then handed to Qiao.

"What's this?" she asked, holding the tile up to the light so she could examine it more clearly.

"A white lotus tile," Iroh answered. "It's a symbol of the society in which I serve, which seeks to re-establish harmony in the world. I believe you might be able to help us. We could do with someone of your wisdom and discreetness, and this town is in sore need of an agent to act as a point of contact."

Qiao's jaw dropped, but she pulled herself together a second later. "I suppose I could do that," she said with all of her usual brusqueness, "if it's to help end the war."

Iroh smiled and bowed again. "Thank you. I cannot explain everything to you now, but a man named Chonglin will come looking for you. Show him the tile and tell him that you have my permission to become an initiate and learn the cryptic arts. He will show you what to do from there."

"And what will you do?"

Iroh took a firmer grip on his bag. "I plan to continue my search for my nephew."

And as he once more looked up at the moon, so bright and silver in the sky, he knew that this time he would not fail.

oOo

A cool breeze slithered its way through Lee's tunic, sending goose-chicken bumps along his arms. He shivered and hugged his arms around his body, but he made no move to go back inside the tent to where it was warm. Sokka was snoring far too loudly and Lee had never really felt comfortable going to sleep unless someone was keeping watch. Plus, he knew that the nightmares would just start again the moment he closed his eyes. They were getting worse now, as if the realisation that he was Fire Nation had unlocked a door of memory inside him.

"Not that it makes much difference," he muttered.

He still couldn't remember anything substantial. It was always pain. Always hurt and longing and anger, even when his dreams showed no fire or tragedy. The last one had been like that. He had seen that man again, the one with the warm, reddish-brown eyes and grey hair. The one who he thought might have given him the dagger.

"Who are you?" Lee whispered.

The moon touched his face in a silvery caress, but there was no one to give him the answer he desired. He was alone, and even his own mind could offer him nothing but fragments and broken whispers.

Lee sighed and buried his face in his palms. It was a long time before he returned to the tent.

* * *

1) "The sly cat-eagle knows when to hide its claws" is actually a quote taken from Final Fantasy IX (though I added in the "cat" part to make it more Avatar-ish). I normally try to come up with my own proverbs, but this one just seemed to fit (and I was feeling a bit brain dead). So, yeah. Not mine.

2) 'Yangshuo' is the name of my imagined town were Lee stayed with Fei and her family. I have positioned it not far from the coast and the Kolau Mountains.


	8. Jigsaw

_He dropped into a crouch and moved cautiously along the tiles, careful not to lose his footing. The sun was hot on his back and under his palms, but he was so close now. So close. Opposite him was the ledge where Zhuā, the head chef's monkey-cat, had got stuck. All he had to do was make it across the rooftop so he could tuck the distressed animal inside his tunic and begin the climb back down the wall. It never occurred to him to be afraid, to even consider that something could go wrong, but then someone called out to him from below and he turned to see the much smaller figure of a girl with dark hair staring up at him._

_"What are you doing up there, Dum-Dum?" she demanded, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun with her hand. "Do you want to get yourself hurt?"_

_He opened his mouth to respond. One of the tiles shifted under his feet and his stomach lurched as he felt himself plummeting backwards, losing his hold on the sun-warmed roof. A cry of surprise escaped his lips and he grasped wildly at the air, trying to find purchase on something—anything to stop his fall—but it was too late. Down and down he went, half-deafened by the roaring noise in his ears, and only dimly aware of the girl screaming something that might have been his name._

_Then came the sickening crunch of a body hitting the ground, of bones cracking as shockwaves of agony juddered through his nervous system. The pain was blinding, disorientating. He felt like he had been crushed and squeezed and broken, and there was blood trickling down his chin from where he had bit his lip, and he was just so scared. So, so scared. But then something flickered to life inside him. Something warm and gentle and soothing. Instinctively, he reached out for the heat, letting it wrap around him like a cocoon and—_

Lee opened his eyes with a choked gasp, still trapped in the nightmare of falling from rooftops and crushed bones. Warmth was tingling in his fingers, through his veins, but it faded a second later as he realised that he was not bruised and broken, but curled up in his corner of the tent with his blanket tangled around his legs. He let out a breath and tried to calm his racing heart, ignoring the way his head throbbed in dull stabs of pain. Headaches were a constant companion to him now that his memories were returning more often, and he knew in his heart that what he had just dreamt had been real. Once, he had climbed a high roof to rescue a monkey-cat; he had also fallen and broken several bones from the impact. It was amazing that he had not been paralysed.

Frowning, he rubbed a hand over his face, only to have his fingers brush against wood. That's right, he was still wearing the mask. He would have taken it off—for his skin felt clammy with sweat and he longed to breathe without the stifling cover of the mask—but Katara was asleep in her pallet not far from him and there was Aang flat on his stomach next to her with Momo curled up like a fuzzy ball on his back. Lee couldn't take the risk. There were was no saying if she would suddenly wake up.

Besides, if he were to be completely honest, he just didn't feel comfortable at the thought of not wearing his disguise around people while he still had no idea about his true identity. It made him feel naked, somehow. Vulnerable. As if he were walking into a wall of armed soldiers with no armour or weapons, just waiting for the steel tips of blades to strike.

He sighed and sat up, glancing at the door where he could see flickers of light peeking through the crack in the cloth. Dawn. Typical. He always seemed to wake up at this time, as if his body was attuned to the rising of the sun.

_"You rise with the moon. I rise with the sun."_

He winced and clutched his head, his vision blurring and flashing with white dots as the pain intensified with the recollection of almost forgotten words. He hated reliving the really fragmented memories. His mind would try to paint a picture for him of his past, but all he would see were swirls of colour that might have been faces, like staring at an image through an unfocussed telescope. Scraps of words would flitter through his thoughts, but the effort to piece together those scattered jigsaw pieces would always be too much. Then the agony would hit and he'd be left reeling, his body trembling as his mind felt like a pincushion being stabbed over and over with needles of pain. Thankfully, his mind had shut down on that particular memory quickly enough, like a band snapping back to shield his thoughts.

Aang made a sleepy noise and rolled over onto his side, dislodging Momo in the process. Momo chittered indignantly before swooping through the tent door, clearly unimpressed. Lee couldn't help but smile at the lemur's antics and got to his feet, grabbing his sheathed dao blades. He stepped over Katara and Aang's sleeping forms as he followed Momo outside, pausing on the threshold to survey the campsite. There was Momo making a new nest for himself on top of Appa's head, and then Lee caught sight of Sokka sitting on a log near the remnants of their camp fire, eyes closed and with his chin almost resting on his chest. So much for keeping watch.

"Sokka!" Lee said sharply.

Sokka sat up with a jerk, making a grab for his boomerang as he stared around blearily for any sign of an intruder. Then his gaze rested on Lee and he visibly relaxed, even managing a small grin. "Oh, it's you," he said, placing his weapon back in its holster. "What's up?"

Lee frowned. "You were supposed to be keeping watch."

"I have been keeping watch! I've been as vigilant as a cuckoo-bat."

"There's drool on your chin."

Sokka had the grace to blush and wiped away the specks of drool. "Alright," he said, shoulders slumping, "so I might have fallen asleep. But we're safe, the camp's safe. No harm done, right?"

Lee just sighed and headed towards the trees, shaking his head in mild exasperation. Sometimes, he wondered how any of these kids had survived for so long. Sure, they knew how to hold their own in a fight, but the way they set up their campsites was just asking for an ambush. They hadn't even bothered to have someone keep guard while they slept until he had come along and insisted they do so (because whatever Aang might think, Appa was not a good guard bison). Not that it made much difference when Sokka was falling asleep on the job.

"Hey," Sokka called, standing up from the log. "Where are you going?"

"Wash," Lee said shortly, not bothering to look back. "I won't be long."

He made his way to the river where Katara and Aang had practised waterbending the previous day. The area was sheltered by trees and bushes, but he still paused to make sure he was truly alone before removing his mask. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he felt the cool, morning air brush against his exposed skin. That was better.

Stripping off the rest of his clothes, Lee waded into the river and dived when he was deep enough, running his hands through his ever-growing hair and scrubbing at his body to get rid of the grime that coated his skin. The distraction could not last for long, and he soon found himself cradling a handful of water in his palm. The liquid was cool to touch and slid through his fingers like the finest of silk. He knew that it would never burn through flesh to leave a scar like the one seared onto his face. It would never consume and destroy, turning all to ash. Water was not like fire, just like the people of the Water Tribes were not like those from the Fire Nation.

Not like him.

_"Lee, you didn't just save Aang's life. You healed him with bending. Don't you see? You're a waterbender."_

He closed his eyes, letting his hand drop back to his side with a splash. Katara had been so certain that this would be the case, yet none of his memories had ever hinted that he might be able to bend water, let alone any element. Even now, standing waist-deep in a river, he felt no connection with the liquid surrounding him.

_"Keep trying, but don't try to force it … Let the energy flow between you and the water; it will reach out to you."_

Lee let out a deep breath and placed his palm flat over the water, letting his body relax as he reached for the energy inside him. Almost immediately he came up against the wall that he had sensed the first time he had tried to bend. There were no cracks, no weaknesses, just a solid barrier that tried to force him back, almost like a warning.

_This will hurt you,_ it whispered. _You don't want to go past this point._

Yet even as he hesitated, he could sense the warmth and energy trapped on the other side like a flood of power waiting to be unleashed. It was so close, so tempting. Another deep breath and then he was pushing at the barrier with his consciousness, chipping away at the layers even as tendrils of pain pierced through his mind, trying to turn him back.

_Stop!_ a small voice cried—his own. _You don't want to do this. You have to stop._

But he didn't. He kept on pushing until he could feel the warmth slipping through the cracks he had created. Until he could feel his fingers tingling with heat and power, just like when he had woken from his dream. Something was there beneath his skin, wanting to be released. He could feel it building within him, like a ball of radiant energy that just kept growing and growing. It was exhilarating, terrifying, but it was also painful. His head throbbed from the effort of trying to keep the pathways open, and he could feel the needles digging into his mind becoming sharper and thicker, like shards of glass splintering into his thoughts.

_Stop!_ the small voice pleaded.

And this time he had no choice. He collapsed to his knees with a gasp, slipping under the surface of the river so that he found himself choking on a mouthful of water. Panic froze his limbs, his thoughts. This feeling of watery suffocation was too familiar. Instinct kicked in and he planted his feet on the rocky bottom, forcing his body to stand so that he could breathe again, even as he coughed and spat out the water that had got into his throat. He was trembling all over and his head was still pulsing in a disorientating tattoo, but he somehow managed to stumble back to the shallows. Then he just sat there on the shore, breathing deeply and trying to stop the dizzy turning in his head.

"Lee!" a voice called from the direction of the campsite. "Hey, Lee!"

It was Sokka.

Lee cursed. He scrambled to his belongings and slipped the mask over his face, then made a grab for his clothes. He had just finished securing his undergarments around his hips when Sokka emerged from the trees. There was an awkward moment as the two of them stood there staring at each other.

Sokka let out a snort of laughter. "You really do wear that mask all the time."

Lee said nothing and bent to pick up his pants, brushing the dirt off the cotton and, in general, just acting as if the other boy didn't exist. Sokka was not so easily dismissed and continued to watch him through those bright blue eyes of his that marked him as Water Tribe—eyes that right now glinted with a hint of suspicion, as if an unpleasant idea had just occurred to him.

"Why are you so worried about us seeing your face, anyway?" Sokka asked. "With the way you carry on, you'd think that you really were trying to hide something. I mean, you don't even take it off to eat."

"I'm not hiding anything!" Lee snapped with a bit more anger than was necessary. "I just don't feel comfortable without the mask on, alright?"

Sokka held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Alright, alright. I was just making an observation. Sheesh."

Lee rolled his eyes and tugged on his pants, ignoring the way the cloth stuck to and chafed against his damp skin. "What do you want, anyway?" he demanded, now slipping into his tunic and doing up the ties. "I told you I was just going to wash up."

The unspoken accusation lingered between them and it had Sokka backing away and waving his arms in the universal gesture of denial. "You think that I was, that I would—" He flailed a bit more and finally seemed to find his voice. "I like girls! You know, breasts and long legs and, well, girls. Not boys." He appraised Lee from head to foot. "Besides, if I did paddle that way, I wouldn't bother with a pasty-skinned guy like you who just likes to hide behind a mask all the time."

"I'm wounded," Lee said dryly, then bent to put on his boots. "So what did you want?"

Sokka's expression cracked into a grin. "Well, since we've still got some time before Katara and Aang wake up, I was wondering if you wanted to have a little sparring match. Your swords against my weapons."

Lee observed him shrewdly from behind the slits of his mask. He thought he had an idea of what this was about. They both fought like non-benders, were perhaps around the same age, and both instinctively took charge whenever it came to deciding what the group should do next. It was no wonder that Sokka was feeling threatened or that he felt the need to test his strength against Lee's. This wasn't about a friendly sparring match. This was about determining the alpha male.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Lee said bluntly, picking up his sheathed dao blades and slinging the strap over his shoulder. "Broadswords aren't toys. You could get hurt."

Sokka raised his chin. "Hey, maybe you'll be the one who gets hurt. Water Tribe weapons aren't toys either, you know." He puffed out his chest. "And I am the best warrior from my village."

Lee raised his eyebrow, not that Sokka could see his expression. "You really want to fight me that much?"

"Why are you so determined not to fight me?" Sokka countered, and his mouth curved into a sly grin. "You aren't scared you'll lose, are you?"

Again, Lee observed him with a measuring gaze, weighing up whether the challenge was worth accepting. Then he just sighed. "Fine," he muttered, removing his twin blades from the scabbard and holding the hilts in a deceptively loose grasp, "but don't think I'm going to go easy on you."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Sokka said, pulling out his battle club and taking up a fighting stance.

Blue eyes locked with shadowed gold as the boys circled around each other. Sokka suddenly charged with a yell, raising his club high. Quick as a flash, Lee side-stepped the attack and swung round in an arc of steel, knocking the club out of his hands and sticking the tip of one blade to his throat.

Sokka gave a nervous laugh and took a step backwards, holding his hands out in a warding gesture. "Best of three?" he suggested, reaching for his jawbone dagger.

Lee inclined his head in agreement, but underneath the mask a smug smile tugged at his lips. There was no way he was going to lose to someone so haphazard and—

Sokka lunged, bone dagger slashing out in a swift swipe. Lee's eyes widened and he brought the dual dao swords up like a shield, catching the dagger on the flat of his blades. He inhaled sharply and was about to shove Sokka back when he felt a foot slip around his ankle, getting ready to yank him off balance.

_No you don't._

Shifting his stance, Lee instead hooked his foot around Sokka's and pulled back hard, making him wobble. An elbow to the chest did the rest, sending Sokka tumbling to the ground in a graceless heap of flushed cheeks and bruised limbs. Sokka didn't stay put for long and rolled to the side to avoid being immobilised, then leapt back to his feet to charge for another attack. Lee rolled his eyes as he got his swords ready. Didn't this idiot know that head-on attacks weren't going to work on him?

Just as predicted, Sokka made a few obvious thrusts with his dagger, all of which were easily dodged, and then performed a wild lunge that might have ended the match had he been a little faster. As it was, Lee deflected the move with his swords before moving in on the offensive, slashing in a whirlwind of steel. There was no way that Sokka could win. The dual dao swords had the longer reach and it was becoming increasingly obvious that Lee was by far the better fighter.

Inevitably, Sokka found himself flat on his back again. In one fluid motion, Lee had his knee pressed into his stomach to keep him down, then held one blade close enough to slit his throat if needed. "You lose," he said calmly.

Sokka made an odd noise that sounded like "meep". Lee smiled beneath the cover of his mask. No matter his indifference towards being perceived as the leader of the group, he couldn't deny that it was satisfying to have won this little battle of strength. He wasn't the type to brag, however, and simply stood up and joined his swords together so that they were of one blade. Then he reached down to help Sokka back to his feet.

"Thanks," Sokka said, accepting the proffered hand, though his voice was edged with disappointment. Clearly, he had not expected to lose quite so badly.

Lee just nodded and was about to sheath his swords when Sokka held out his hand.

"Wait. How about one more match?"

A half-suppressed sigh. "Look, I really don't think—"

"Aw, c'mon." Sokka's mouth curved into another sly grin. "I still have one more weapon to try."

Lee shrugged. Well, if the Water Tribe boy loved the taste of defeat so much, who was he to deny him? "Very well," he said, readying his swords. "Give me your best shot."

Blue eyes alit with glee. "Oh, I will. Let's see how you dodge this!"

Sokka reached behind him and removed his boomerang from its holster, throwing it as hard as he could. Lee ducked the whistling flash of metal and then just stared at Sokka with a frown. That was it? That was the grand attack? Sokka hadn't even been able to land a hit and now he had no weapon to defend himself.

That was when Lee realised that Sokka was still grinning, and when he heard the strange whistling noise get louder. His head gave a sudden throb. Why did this feel so familiar? And why did every instinct tell him to duck?

Too late. Something smacked into the back of his head, making his skull throb in quite a different manner as pain assailed his nerves from the impact. He couldn't even bring himself to keep hold of his swords and let them clatter harmlessly to the ground. Sokka laughed and said something about his "trusty boomerang", but Lee wasn't really listening. He just groaned and ran a tentative hand over the damaged area on his head, feeling a lump already forming where the weapon had struck. A hiss escaped his lips when his fingers brushed too hard against the spot. Yep, that was going to be one hell of a bruise.

Apparently, someone else wasn't too pleased with Sokka's boomerang trick. Katara stood on the outskirts of the trees with her mouth agape and her eyes wide. Then she narrowed her gaze on Sokka. "Are you insane?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips. "Why did you attack him?"

Sokka rubbed the back of his neck. "We were just sparring," he said, though he looked a bit sheepish. "It was just a friendly match. Nothing serious."

"You hit him on the head with your boomerang!"

"Yeah, so?"

"He has amnesia! You don't hit an amnesiac on the head, you blubber-headed dolt! It might make things worse and—"

"Katara," Lee said, cutting her tirade short, "I'm okay. Really," he added when she continued to look at him doubtfully.

Sokka flashed a grin. "See, he's fine. Now stop your—"

"Stop my what? You could have really hurt him, Sokka! Honestly, what maggot got into both of your heads to make you think that it would be a good idea to spar with each other? Can't you see that it's dangerous?"

"Seemed a good way to pass the time," her brother said with a shrug.

Lee just winced and touched the pulsing lump on his head, thinking that it hadn't turned out to be such a great time for him. Combined with his usual headache, his skull felt like it was being split in two, not that he would say as much aloud. That would be showing weakness and he'd already displayed enough of that after his little breakdown in Omashu. Unfortunately, hawk-eyes Katara did not miss his subtle shift in expression.

"You are hurt!" she exclaimed as if he had committed some dangerous crime. "Let me see!"

He held his hands up in a defensive gesture, trying to ward her off. "Really, it's just a bruise. It'll go away on its own, so there's no need for you to—"

"Oh, hush," she scolded, swatting away his hands and then placed her own on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her level. "Now hold still."

Lee did. Mostly because her palms were smooth and soft on his skin, and she was much, much too close, and he really didn't know what to make of so much girl all up in his space. In fact, it was quite discomforting, filling him with an odd urge to shove her away. It was almost as if some primal part of his mind had been switched on by her touching him. He felt twitchy and edgy, as if he were afraid that she was going to attack him any second. Then her fingers slid through his hair, searching for any signs of damage, and he experienced quite different sensations. It was soothing, somehow. Familiar.

_There was a woman stroking his hair with soft fingers. He could feel her heart beating against his cheek, and he let out a little sigh as he snuggled more against her. She smelt like flowers and spices. She smelt like home._

_"Sleep, dear one," she murmured, still keeping up the rhythmic stroking. "I'll watch over you."_

He gasped as pain lanced through his mind like lightning. Katara pulled her hands back in alarm.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he muttered, conscious of the way his heart pounded in a fluttery rush in his chest. "I just—I just remembered something, that's all."

His mother. He had remembered his mother, even though he couldn't see her face or had any real idea of what she looked like beyond dark hair and amber eyes. But he knew it was her. The truth tingled in every fibre of his body, every beat of his heart. His mother had held him, comforted him, and it was then that he realised she was the same woman who had once told him that he was someone who kept fighting even when it was hard. She had been proud of him. Somehow, that just distressed him even more.

"It really hurts you, doesn't it?"

He glanced down at Katara, who was still watching him in concern. "What do you mean?"

"Remembering your past," she said. "I can see that it pains you."

Lee said nothing. Yes, it hurt, but it wasn't just the physical pain that bothered him. Every memory left his heart aching in feelings that he could not comprehend, like the sluggish nerve responses to a limb that has been numb for too long and is then forced to move again. It was too much for him to handle at once. Too much joy, too much loss. It left him confused and drained, for none of those people in his memories were with him now. What had gone wrong? Was it his fault? Their fault?

"You don't have to keep it all bottled in, you know," she said quietly. "I know this must be hard for you and—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, averting his gaze.

"But—"

"Just leave him, Katara," Sokka advised, leaning against a tree and picking at his teeth with his finger. "A man needs his space. We don't do the weepy, heart-to-heart thing. Isn't that right, Lee?"

Lee nodded, grateful for the interruption.

"Fine," Katara huffed, "but you can at least let me heal that bruise on your head."

He knew better than to argue this time and allowed her to place glowing palms on the lump so she could use her element to manipulate his chi into healing his injury faster. Soon, the nasty throbbing was just a dull pulse and then gone altogether. Katara smiled and stepped back, guiding the water swirling around her arm into the pouch tied to her waist.

"Thanks," he said, running his fingers over the healed patch of skin.

Her smile widened. "Any time."

Lee nodded in acknowledgement and turned to collect his swords. A hand latched around his arm. He glanced down at Katara in surprise, wondering what she wanted now.

"I am here if you ever want to talk, you know," she said in a low voice so that only he could hear. "I realise we barely know each other, but I do want to help you, if you'll let me."

He gently disengaged her hand from his sleeve. "Thanks, but I don't think you can help me with this."

Katara frowned and looked as if she wanted to say more, but he didn't wait for her response. He gathered up his dropped dao blades and sheathed them in the scabbard strapped to his back, then headed towards the campsite without a further word. He knew that she had meant well, but he was not the sharing type and had no desire to lay his fears before some girl he had only known for a few days. Besides, he doubted she would be quite so forthcoming with her offers if she knew that he was from the Fire Nation. No, it was best that he just keep his distance and focus on finding the truth about the path of the ancient ways. Then he could leave the Avatar and Water Tribe siblings to their own mission and just get on with his life.

He didn't like to dwell on why this made him feel strangely empty.

oOo

After a breakfast of leftovers and berries, the group packed up their belongings and piled on top of Appa. It was not long before a small argument arose about where they should head next. All agreed that they needed to find an earthbending teacher for Aang as well as information about the path of the ancient ways for Lee, but deciding on a specific location, let alone direction, proved much more difficult.

"You can't just keep flying around aimlessly and expect an earthbender to drop down from the sky onto Appa's saddle," Lee said bluntly. "You need a plan."

"We do have a plan," Sokka retorted. "We keep heading southwest until we reach the next town. Then we stop and investigate. If that place can't help us, we move onto the next one. Problem solved."

"And what if that place is being occupied by the Fire Nation?" Lee countered. "You just can't go wandering into towns with the intent of finding a master for the Avatar and expect there not to be repercussions. People are looking for you and they're bound to take more notice if you start asking suspicious questions."

"Then what do you suggest we do, oh-wise-one?" Sokka responded in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Guys, please," Aang protested mildly from his perch on Appa's head, "you don't need to argue."

"You're right, Aang," Sokka agreed, "and that's why we're going to keep heading southwest." He stared at Lee challengingly, daring the masked warrior to state otherwise.

Lee folded his arms. "Look, all I'm saying is that we need to be cautious. You guys aren't exactly subtle about the fact that you're travelling with the Avatar, and that's just asking for trouble. Besides, you'd probably do better focussing on the towns in the South. There aren't many major settlements in the Southwest aside from Omashu, and you already know you're not going to find anything there."

Sokka raised his eyebrows. "Well-travelled, are you?"

Lee shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know, but I do know that you'd have better luck in a place like Gaoling if you're looking for an earthbender master. It's the home of the Earth Rumble tournaments, after all."

The Water Tribe siblings stared at him blankly.

"Right, I guess you don't know what that is," Lee said, rubbing the base of his neck.

There was another awkward pause.

"Anyway," Sokka said, changing the subject, "we're already heading southwest, so we might as well continue with the original plan. If our search proves unfruitful, we'll head south like you suggested."

"I agree with Sokka," Aang stated in his calm way. "I don't know why, but I feel like I need to keep going in this direction. Appa feels it too, don't you, boy?"

The bison gave a low rumble, which may or may not have been a sign of agreement.

"Well, I guess that's settled," Katara said in a business-like tone. "If Aang feels we should keep heading southwest, we'll keep heading southwest."

Lee nodded in acquiescence, knowing there was no point in arguing further. For all he knew they might be right and the Southwest would prove to be the best destination for achieving their goals. It wasn't as if he had all the answers. He was just a masked amnesiac with no name and no idea how he knew any of the things that he did. It was amazing they even trusted him to travel with them, let alone his judgement, though he sometimes had his doubts about Sokka. It seemed that Sokka couldn't decide whether he viewed Lee as a friend or a rival. Not that it mattered. They'd go their separate ways eventually and that would be the end of it.

He sighed and rested his elbows on the edge of the saddle, watching the forests and mountains flash by in blurs of green and brown. Momo came and settled on his lap and he absently ran his fingers through the fur on the lemur's back, feeling strangely soothed by the little contented noises his companion made. His mind was such a jumble lately, but there was something comforting about the weight of that warm bundle on his lap. Something that reminded him of Zhuā.

_"What are you doing up there, Dum-Dum? Do you want to get yourself hurt?"_

His mind throbbed with pain as images flittered through his mind, showing him a boy climbing atop a high roof to rescue a monkey-cat. Someone was screaming his name, but it was too late. He was falling, falling, helpless against the force of gravity that dragged him down into a world of pain and darkness. So much darkness.

A blur of time and space, of fiery cocoons and the smell of healing herbs. Then there were new voices. Two women speaking in hushed whispers as if they were afraid of being overheard.

_"It's not natural. I saw the bruises and they just disappeared right before my eyes. Even his bones are mending at a pace too quick to be normal."_

_"Then it is as we feared. My son is a healer."_

_"This isn't good. You know what will happen to him if they find out."_

_"We will have to watch him. Make sure he doesn't—"_

Someone was shaking his shoulders. "Lee."

He groaned softly.

"Lee, wake up."

Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw the Avatar leaning over him. A wide grin spread across Aang's face.

"You're okay!" Aang exclaimed, moving back to sit cross-legged on the grass.

"What happened?" Lee asked, sitting up and holding a hand to his swimming head.

"You fell out of the saddle. Gave us all a fright, to be honest."

"Oh."

Lee didn't know what else to say. It was humiliating to think that he had broken down in front of them like that again. They must think he was so weak. He could only be grateful that Sokka and Katara weren't there right then to see him struggling to stay upright. Speaking of which, where were they? He gazed around at his surroundings, noting that he was in some kind of meadow. Appa was not far, munching on the long grass with gusto.

"Sokka and Katara have gone to see if they can find any more food to go with lunch," Aang said, as if he had read Lee's thoughts. "I offered to stay with you to make sure you were okay."

"Right."

The silence stretched between them. Aang twiddled his thumbs and cast tentative looks at him. Lee folded his hands on his lap and watched Appa move to a new patch of grass. Neither seemed eager to speak.

"Was it the memories again?" Aang asked after a moment.

"What?"

"When you fell. Was it the memories?"

"I ..." Lee swallowed and stared at his hands, then nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who's messed up."

Aang hugged his knees to his chest. For a long moment he didn't say anything and then he just sighed. "This isn't at all how I thought it would be."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Aang said a little sadly. "It's nothing."

A crease formed on Lee's brow. The kid was definitely hiding something, but before he could demand a further explanation, Momo landed in between them with a flutter of white wings and chirruped happily as he showed off his prize (a decapitated bug). Lee glanced up to see Sokka and Katara following in tow across the meadow. Sokka was loudly boasting about the fish he had caught while his sister carried a pouch of fruit and nuts. Then the conversation was all about how Lee was feeling, and whether he wanted to rest for a while longer, and so many other questions of concern that he began to feel a little suffocated.

He excused himself from the group and went to stand by Appa, giving the bison an absent pat on his shaggy head. These people were so impossible, just like Fei. They didn't even know him yet, yet—

"Yet they seem to genuinely care," he murmured.

His gaze shifted back to Aang, and their eyes met. Lee wondered what he'd meant when he'd said that things hadn't gone the way he'd thought that they would. Aang had offered him friendship once. He'd also admitted that they had not been allies when Lee had first healed him.

_And you are a healer._

Yes, he knew that now. No matter how impossible it seemed for him to call upon his energy, he was definitely a healer. So why did the thought that he could bend make his stomach sink with such terrible dread?

Lee's fingers tightened on the white fur as he stared into those sad grey eyes. Well, perhaps there was one person who could give him some answers. Aang was definitely omitting some kind of information from him. He would not rest until he discovered the truth.


	9. Games and Illusions

Mai spared a disparaging glance for the wares being offered on display. The dresses were all shades of greens, pale yellows and browns. Most of them were also floral. How quaint. Her lip curled ever so slightly and she moved on to the next stall, keeping an eye and ear out for any sign of her quarry and wondering not for the first time how it was that her life had come to this. If she had wanted to stroll around peasant markets that pretended to be upscale while looking at obnoxiously colourful Earth Kingdom clothes and gaudy jewellery, she could have stayed in Omashu—oh, sorry, New Ozai—with her family. But apparently the old general enjoyed shopping, and it was a fact that much gossip could be heard in a market.

Yes, like how Peng got the butcher's daughter knocked up and was now refusing to marry the girl.

Such were the joys of peasants' gossip. Such was Mai's torture.

Heaving a weary sigh, she continued to make her way down the market lane, repressing shudders at objects that were particularly heinous to her and repressing even more eye rolls at the tedious conversations she was forced to overhear. A gleam of interest lit her eyes as she spotted the blacksmith's shop. Now that looked more promising.

She weaved her way through the crowd to examine the projectile weapons, ignoring the smithy's greetings and attempts at conversation. When he tried to direct her to the more ornamental weapons, which he insisted were more suitable for a lady, Mai threw him a flat, dark look—a look that she maintained until he was fidgeting nervously and excused himself to deal with the other customers.

The tiniest of smiles graced her lips before she went back to examining the dagger in her hand. As it happened, two Fire Nation soldiers were standing beside the neighbouring display wall, looking at swords and talking among themselves. She paid little attention to them at first, but her hearing had always been good, and she couldn't help but glance up when she heard Prince Zuko's name. An unfamiliar ache prodded her heart as she thought of the handsome boy with the pale gold eyes. She pushed the feelings aside and instead focussed on what the men were saying.

"I thought he had been assassinated," the one on the right stated. "His ship got blown up and everything. Rumours are that it was pirates."

The other man, who had a ridiculously large moustache, shook his head. "My cousin is part of Princess Azula's firebender entourage and he told me that they found the prince half-dead in the ocean about three weeks after the siege in the North. In fact, it was Shu who hauled him up out of the water."

"But then—"

"How did he die?" Moustache Man finished for him, anticipating the question.

The other nodded. Mai edged closer as the soldier's voice dropped to a low hush.

"It was the princess," Moustache Man said, casting a wary look around as if afraid Azula might appear any moment and punish him for speaking of the subject. "Struck him right in the chest with lightning, she did, and off goes the prince overboard. They never found the body, but that doesn't matter. No one can survive an attack like that." He shook his head. "It's all being kept hush, hush, of course. The prince was only supposed to be taken back to the Fire Nation to be kept out of the way, so I heard, but you know the princess. She doesn't tolerate people challenging her authority very well."

Mai's fingers tightened on the dagger. No, she knew that all too well.

"I can't believe she would kill her own brother," the other soldier murmured, his eyes wide with shock.

Moustache Man frowned. "Hey, mind you don't go repeating this. We all know what those royals are like, and I'd rather not put Shu's head on the line. The established story is that the prince tried to escape and drowned, got it?"

Mai released the dagger she had been clutching, barely hearing it clatter against the display cabinet as she walked away from the blacksmith's shop. Her expression and gait were composed, but inside she was a twisting storm of emotions. Anger, fear, sadness; she could feel it all inside her, battering against her ribs and screaming for release. Azula had killed Zuko. Azula had killed Zuko. The words were a chant in her mind, echoing over and over again.

A blur of pink appeared before her vision and she blinked to see Ty Lee smiling up at her. "There you are!" the bubbly girl greeted. "Azula wants us to report back to camp."

"Finally," Mai said with perfected weariness, not revealing a hint of her inner turmoil. "If I have to listen to one more conversation about how the pig-chickens aren't breeding so well this month, I'm going to be sick."

Ty Lee giggled. "At least we got to shop around a bit, and look at this cute hat I got given!" She shoved a pale yellow nightmare at Mai's face, who simply took one look at it and then gave her friend a flat stare.

"I thought you don't like hats," Mai said. "You always said they get in the way of your plait and ruin the natural bounciness of your hair, or whatever."

"But the tailor's son was such a cutie! I couldn't just refuse his gift."

Mai rolled her eyes. "Right."

Ty Lee didn't seem troubled by this sarcasm and instead started walking on her hands, apparently deciding that feet just weren't doing the trick for her. "So, did you get any leads?"

"Only if you want to know about how Peng has got the butcher's daughter knocked up and now refuses to marry her."

Ty Lee let out another giggle. "Sounds serious."

"Oh, it is," Mai responded, but her wry amusement faded a second later as she thought of what else she had learned during her sojourn in the market. Without even thinking about it, she slowed to a halt. "Ty Lee ..."

"Mm?"

"What did Azula tell you about what happened to Zuko?"

Ty Lee flipped back to her feet and her ever-smiling lips drooped into a frown. "She didn't say much. Just that he drowned."

Mai's jaw tightened a fraction. "She told me the same."

"I still find it hard to believe. I mean, I know he was banished and all, but he was our friend too, you know? It just doesn't seem right." She paused and glanced up at Mai, hesitating a moment. "You are doing okay, aren't you? I know we haven't really had a chance to talk about—"

"I'm fine," Mai said in an expressionless voice.

"But—"

"I haven't seen Zuko for three years. I'm hardly cherishing a broken heart now."

The words were cold, but that was what Mai intended. She tried to ignore the look of surprise, even disappointment, that flashed in her friend's grey eyes. It was better this way—much easier for her to deal with since she had never liked to wear her emotions on her sleeve or have heart-to-hearts. Besides, she had only been honest. Her crush on Zuko might have seemed everlasting when she was twelve, but then he had got banished. He had vanished for three years and all her feelings had got mixed up in the process. She didn't know what she felt for him now, but she did know that she hated the fact that Azula had been the one to kill him.

She hated the fact that Azula had lied to her.

"Come on," Mai said, striding ahead. "Let's get back to camp. You know Azula doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Ty Lee could not argue with this statement, though it was obvious that she was still bursting with questions. She had enough tact to keep her thoughts to herself, however, for which Mai could only be grateful. Mai was already regretting bringing up the subject of Zuko, no matter her desire to know if she was the only one who had been lied to, because she did care about what had happened to him. That was a dangerous thing. Mai had learnt long ago that feelings were better kept hidden; they had to be protected and locked away, because feelings could get you hurt. Especially when you were friends with Azula. The princess had always loved to play games.

Perhaps that was why Mai wasn't surprised when she was later summoned to Azula's tent for a "friendly chat". She should have known that Ty Lee wouldn't be able to resist telling her of their discussion. Not that Ty Lee would have realised the significance of what she had done. Her motives would have been innocent. Mai could almost hear the words:

"I'm really worried about Mai. She was asking about Zuko earlier and—"

And then Azula would smile that sharp little smile because, unlike Ty Lee, she would know that Mai would not bring up the subject of Zuko's death for no reason. She would know that Mai must have heard something in the market, something that might just reflect back on the princess in a poor light. So Mai had been summoned and now they sat facing each other in the grand tent, sipping tea and pretending as if they weren't trying to pick each other's brains apart. As if this wasn't really an interrogation but the friendly chat Azula had claimed.

"You know, Mai," Azula remarked, once the initial pleasantries were out of the way and it became obvious that Mai wasn't going to make the first move, "I don't believe you gave me a full report of the information you gathered in the marketplace today, did you?"

Mai placed her teacup down on the table. "I told you that I found no leads. That's the truth."

Azula examined her fingernails. "Yes, but I'm not talking about new leads."

"The rest was just peasants' gossip." An indifferent shrug. "I didn't think you would be interested in that."

"And what about soldiers' gossip?"

Tawny eyes locked with amber. "I didn't think you would be interested in that either."

Azula smiled and relaxed back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she took another sip of her tea. She let the silence linger between them, perhaps hoping to make Mai squirm and fall into the trap of revealing her true thoughts. But Mai had been playing this game for a long time and she knew that she was not as cornered as Azula wanted her to think. As such, she simply picked up her cup and took a sip of her own tea, waiting for the next move to be made. She didn't have to wait long.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me yet," Azula said, watching her closely.

"Asked you what?"

"Whether it's true." Her voice was cold and precise. "Whether I actually killed my brother."

"What difference does it make? He's dead now regardless."

"You're right. He is dead." Azula went back to examining her nails. "Still, I admit that I thought you would show a bit more emotion than this. From what I remember, you used to be quite taken with poor little Zuzu."

Mai gave another of her indifferent shrugs. "That was a long time ago. Your brother was banished and I heard he was later labelled a traitor to the Fire Nation before his death. Why should I care about him?"

"Why indeed?"

There was a pregnant pause. They were getting to the heart of the matter now, for Mai had known from the moment she had been summoned that this was not about whether Azula had killed Zuko or not; this was about discovering where Mai's loyalties lay. Just like it had always been between them. Just like it had been when Azula had suggested that Mai shouldn't trade Tom-Tom for the earthbender king, because Tom-Tom was Mai's little brother, and Azula couldn't help but prod and push to see how far her friend's loyalty would go, even though any sane person could see that such tests were unfair and unnecessary. Even though they had both known that refusing would have meant even more complications for Mai. (As Ty Lee could attest to after her circus act became a desperate struggle to survive.)

So Mai did not admit that hearing about Zuko's death had upset her. She did not admit that she didn't like the fact that Azula had killed him in what sounded like to be cold blood. She simply drank the last of her tea and placed the empty cup on the table. "Are we finished?" she asked with a weary sigh. "I know Zuko was your brother, but talking about dead people isn't exactly my idea of an interesting conversation."

Azula's mouth curved into a sharp little smile. "Of course. I won't keep you up any longer. Goodnight, Mai."

Mai stood and placed her palms together, giving a slight bow. "Goodnight, Princess Azula."

When she finally left the tent, she was surprised to find that her hands were shaking. During her time spent in the Earth Kingdom, she had almost forgotten how draining Azula could be with her manipulation games, forgotten how much she had loathed and dreaded the endless, endless tests. Mai had just remembered the good times that they had shared together. She'd remembered the freedom she had been given when Azula had forced her parents to realise that their daughter was an expert with projectile weapons and shouldn't have to hide her talents. But now those rose-tinted glasses were gone. Now Mai remembered exactly why Ty Lee had run away to join the circus, why she herself had been secretly relieved when the Fire Lord had given her father governorship over Omashu, or New Ozai. Whatever.

Maybe it had been boring living with her parents in that Earth Kingdom hellhole, but at least Mai had never been made to feel threatened simply for having a heart. At least she hadn't been forced to truly cover up her emotions for fear that they could be used against her. The worst part, however, was the knowledge that there was no way to take back her impulsive decision to join her friends. One did not refuse the Princess of the Fire Nation, not unless one had a death sentence. Everyone was expendable to Azula, even her own brother, it seemed.

By the time Mai reached the tent that she shared with Ty Lee, her hands were still shaking.

oOo

Momo was chittering again. Lee glanced over the side of the saddle to where the lemur was looking and saw a large expanse of swampland below. He didn't understand why the swamp seemed to distress Momo, but then he also didn't understand why Momo enjoyed eating bugs. As such, Lee dismissed the matter and reclined against the saddle. He was careful not to lean too far back, not wanting a repeat of last time. His cheeks felt hot with shame just thinking about his little breakdown. He hated how the others seemed to be watching him all the time now, as if they were wondering when he was next going to have one of his "crazy memory episodes", as Sokka called them.

_"The boy is weak. He was lucky to even be born."_

Lee closed his eyes, blocking out the cruel, unfeeling voice that haunted his nightmares. He didn't realise that he had tensed up until a hand touched his arm.

"Hey, are you alright?"

He blinked. Katara knelt in front of him with a concerned expression on her face. No doubt she thought that he was about to fall off the saddle again. Because he was weak. Because he just couldn't seem to keep it together. An angry, bitter swell of emotion bubbled inside him, and he shrugged off her touch and looked the other way. "I'm fine."

"Lee—"

"I said I'm fine! You don't need to coddle me like a baby! You're not my mother, and I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, so just drop it!"

She let her hand fall back to her side, biting her lip and looking more than a little hurt at his outburst. Lee didn't need to look to know that Sokka and Aang were both staring at him, perhaps wondering why he had started shouting. Something twisted in his stomach, tangling into knots. Damn it, why did he always have to lose his temper?

"I'm sorry," he said in a much softer voice. "I didn't mean—I'm just ..." He sighed and lowered his head. "I just need some space, okay?"

Katara stared at him for a long moment. "Okay," she said quietly, "but, Lee?"

He glanced up at her.

"I wasn't trying to coddle you." A faint smile curved her lips. "I was just trying to be your friend. That's what we do. We look out for each other."

Lee didn't know how to respond to that, so he nodded and went back to looking at the swampland. His averted face and posture stated that the conversation was over. Katara took the hint and retreated to the opposite corner of the saddle to resume reading her waterbending scrolls, though he could feel her gaze flickering towards him from time to time. A small breath escaped his lips. These people really were so impossible, so insistent on viewing him as a friend, as if they had known him for years instead of just a few days. It didn't make sense. They didn't make sense, but then—

His gaze darted to Aang, who was perched on Appa's head. In his mind, he could see the clearing, see the blood stains on his hands from where he had healed Aang and the shy smile that had started it all.

_"If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends?"_

Lee clenched his hands into fists. He had not got the chance to confront Aang yet about their real history together. In fact, it was almost as if Aang was avoiding him—not in the sense of refusing to speak, but getting a private conversation with him was like trying to capture the wind. No matter how much Lee tried, he was always left grasping at nothing. Somehow, he got the feeling that this wasn't a rare occurrence.

It was in that moment that Lee realised they were descending at a rapid rate.

Sokka glanced up from where he had been sharpening his machete. "Hey, Aang," he called. "Is there a reason you're taking us down?"

Aang said nothing, nor did he so much as twitch to show that he had heard. Lee and Sokka exchanged a confused glance.

"Aang!" Sokka tried again, walking over to him. "Why are you taking us down?"

It turned out that the swamp was calling to Aang, which everyone agreed was creepy. Things only got weirder when they tried to fly away and a tornado appeared. Of course it also chased them.

Lee's hand slipped on the saddle and he was yanked up into the air, tugged this way and that. The wind was so powerful, so raw. He felt like he was going to be torn in two, but at last the tornado loosened its hold, tossing him aside like an unwanted rag doll. Then he was falling, falling, falling—just like with Zhuā when he was a child, just like after he had been struck with lightning by the Fire Nation princess.

Just like when a ship he had called home had exploded, plunging him into dark, icy waters.

Lee's eyes widened as the memories rushed through his mind, flickering in a disorientating blur of images and voices. He tumbled through the veil of trees, welcomed into the swamp's murky embrace, but it was so hard to separate reality from memory. So hard to determine if he was falling past tree and vine or tumbling towards an expanse of blue. His last conscious thought was of an old man in Fire Nation robes leaning over him, telling him that everything was going to be alright.

oOo

"He's not here," Katara said, heading back to regroup with the boys.

Aang ran his hands over his head. "He has to be here somewhere! Maybe if we just—"

Sokka gripped his arm, pulling him to a halt. "Aang, we've already searched everywhere. Lee isn't here. I know you're worried, but we're just going to be wasting our time if we stick around this area any longer. Maybe he's with Appa and Momo."

"Maybe," Aang said, but that didn't stop him from feeling anxious.

Zuko, or "Lee" as he now had to call him, had seemed a bit fragile and on edge ever since that weird breakdown during the fight in Omashu. Put simply, Aang was worried. Worried that Zuko might be alone and hurt somewhere, worried that the memories were returning, worried that he was about to lose his friend all over again.

Not that Aang had ever truly got his friend back. It was something that he had realised while sitting with Lee in that meadow. Zuko had been right next to him, but Lee did not remember saving Aang from Pohuai Stronghold, Lee did not remember stopping flames from burning through tender flesh, nor comforting a boy who had hurt a friend with a reckless display of firebending. Lee did not remember fighting side by side against Zhao or telling him that he just wanted to go home. All Lee could remember was an offer of friendship, but that meant nothing without the history that had led to that point. That meant nothing without the Fire Nation prince who had hunted Aang all over the world.

It was a cruel twist of irony. All Aang had wanted was another chance with Zuko—a clean slate to forget the anger and tears that had been their parting at the North Pole—but instead Aang had got this cheap copy of his friend. Because Lee was not Zuko. He could never be Zuko, and though he wore the mask of the Blue Spirit, he was no Masky either.

Perhaps it was Aang's punishment for lying all of those times, for every omission of the truth. Aang didn't know. All he knew was that it made him sad and worried and so uncertain of what to do. He just wanted to stop pretending. He just wanted his friend back.

But all he had was Lee.

"Aang?"

He blinked and saw Katara looking at him in concern.

"You okay?" she asked.

Aang nodded. "Yeah. Let's go find the others."

oOo

Lee groaned and opened his eyes. A tilted view of trees and bushes greeted his vision. He winced and pushed himself to his knees, feeling his body protest in pain. No doubt many tree branches had tried to cushion his fall—and scratched and bruised him along the way—but the fact that he was soaking wet did surprise him, since he had woken up on the marshy bank and not in the water. His heart quickened at the thought that perhaps he was not alone, but a quick survey of the clearing revealed no sign of another person. Nothing but trees and plants and swamp.

Frowning, he got to his feet and made sure that he had everything he needed. Dao swords were still strapped to his back and he could feel his dagger tucked into its usual place in his boot. Good. His mask was covering his face, and stunk like swamp. Ugh. He pulled it off and let the excess bits of water trickle out from beneath the mask, then slipped the disguise back over his head. He might be alone for now, but there was no saying when he would run into the others. Best not to take his chances. Lastly, he checked the inside of his tunic for the Pai Sho tile, note, and water flask. All were still in place, though the note was so bedraggled and faded that the words were barely legible.

His eyes narrowed on the tile as a flicker of memory teased at his thoughts. He flipped the tile over on his palm, examining the flower etched onto the other side. "A white lotus," he murmured.

Once again, the image of the old man in the Fire Nation robes flickered in his mind, except this time the man was sitting at a table with a Pai Sho board set up on top.

"It seems I've lost my lotus tile."

"Lotus tile?"

"For my Pai Sho game. Most people think the lotus tile insignificant, but it is essential for the unusual strategy that I employ."

Lee sucked in a sharp breath and stared at the tile resting on his palm as if seeing it for the first time. Bits and pieces of memory were at last beginning to connect together, but then something gave a loud screech from deep within the trees, shaking him from his thoughts. The moment was gone. He grunted in frustration and stuffed the tile back inside his tunic. He would have to ponder over the matter later. Right now, he just needed to focus on getting out of this swamp.

oOo

Lee let out a hiss as his foot slid into a particularly boggy part of the swamp. Spirits, he hated this place. The vines and trees impeded his path while bubbles of swamp gas that stunk like dead things mixed with mud got into his nostrils and mouth, practically choking him on the fumes. By the time the sky had darkened, though it was difficult to tell with the veil of trees overhead, a thick fog had set in and he was wishing that he could hurry up and find the others so that he could get the hell out of this place.

That was when he saw the boy emerging from the mist.

It was like watching a wraith form from wisps of colour, blending to form a blur of red and black. Yet there was no denying the boy's physical presence—or that he was advancing to where Lee was standing. Without a second thought, Lee unsheathed his dual dao swords and held them out in an offensive stance.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Are you the one who's been following me?"

It was the only explanation for why he felt like he was being watched all the time, but the boy offered him no answer and continued to close the distance between them in slow, steady steps, becoming more visible until even the mist could not obscure his youthful features. Lee's heart thumped against his ribs and he swallowed, tightening his grip on his swords. Something wasn't right here.

"Answer me!" he yelled, taking a half-step forward.

The boy paused, pale gold eyes locking with pale gold. Lee felt his blood go cold even as all the air seemed to vanish from his lungs. It couldn't be. There was just no way.

"What is this?" he whispered, backing away in horror. "Who—who are you?"

"She told you not to forget," the boy said in a voice that sounded at once distant and piercingly close. "She told you to never forget who you are."

Lee shook his head and backed up another step, feeling like his heart was about to leap out of his throat. He'd seen this boy before in his memories: a boy with dark hair and pale skin who wore robes of the finest quality. A boy who had somehow become scarred and alone, hiding behind a blue mask to cover up what he did not know.

"She told you not to forget," the boy repeated, still in that faraway but piercing voice. "Why did you forget?"

"I don't know," Lee whispered. "I don't know what happened. I don't know anything."

"She told you not to forget."

Lee squeezed his eyes shut. "Please," he begged. "Tell me who I am."

There was no answer. He opened his eyes and saw that the boy—no, his younger self—was fading back into the mist.

"No!" Lee shouted, sheathing his swords and running after the figure. "Come back! Please!"

His heart pounded as he ran, but his past self did not wait for him and soon Lee was just stumbling alone through the fog, tripping over tree roots and grazing his palms on sharp rocks. A voice whispered to him that he needed to calm down before he hurt himself, but Lee was beyond reasoning now. He had to find that boy again. He had to know the truth.

Suddenly, his foot hooked on something and he fell flat on his face, landing with a splash in the boggy water. Trembling, he curled his fingers into the mud, pushing himself to his knees. The fog wasn't as thick in this part of the swamp and a glint of moonlight managed to slip through the canopy overhead, making the water he was kneeling in glow with a silver light. On the surface, Lee could see the faint outline of his mask, blue and white swirls forming a demonic grin. This was the face of the Blue Spirit, but it was not his face. It was not his identity.

"Who am I?" he whispered.

His fingers reached for the mask, pulling it away to reveal a young man whose countenance was divided between scarred flesh and smooth, angular features. A young man who was undeniably Fire Nation.

_"She told you not to forget."_

Needles of pain pierced his mind, whispering of forgotten truths and a woman with dark hair and amber eyes. His mother.

_"Please, my love. Listen to me. Everything I've done, I've done to protect you."_

_"No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."_

_"Never forget."_

Lee let the mask slip from his fingers. In his mind, he could still see the images flashing before his eyes, still hear the snatches of conversation. The memories tortured and soothed him, drawing him into a world of pain and fire. A world of love, loss and regret, but they were still just fragments. They were always just fragments, blurred and skewed as his own identity, and now they were coming faster, like lightning dancing through his thoughts. Now he was trembling and clutching his head, trying to make it stop, because it was too much, too fast, and he was just in so much pain.

_"The boy is weak. He was lucky to even be born."_

Lee bit down on his lip, drawing blood so that all he could taste was copper and salt. There was a man walking towards him on a stone arena; a man with features similar to his own, except this man's eyes were a darker gold. He mouthed words that Lee could not hear and raised a fist wreathed in flames. Hot, burning flames of orange that would sear through flesh stained with tears. So many tears.

_"Everything is going to be alright, Nephew."_

A shuddery gasp. A stuttering heartbeat. Then an old man touched his face, not with a burning fist, but with a gentle caress.

_"Everything is going to be alright."_

Lee didn't notice when he hit the ground, limp and with his fingers just touching the edges of his mask. He didn't notice when two men wearing what looked like loincloths made out of leaves knelt beside him, prodding his side and declaring him still alive. Nor did he notice when they lifted him up and carried him back to their boats, settling him down in one before propelling their vessels down the swampy river with waterbending. Instead, he saw that same old man in Fire Nation robes leaning over him, telling him that everything was going to be alright.

He saw his uncle.

* * *

I know some of you might be wondering how Zuko saw an illusion of his younger self, and my reasoning comes back to that "time is an illusion" line. The swamp showed him something that he has lost from the past, his own identity. I also believe the swamp illusions react to what or who we wish to see the most. Katara saw her mother, Sokka saw Yue, and Aang saw the earthbending teacher he needed to find. Hence, Zuko does not see any members of his family (since he can't really remember them), but what matters most to him at that point in time, and that is finding his true self.


	10. Thin Ice

Aang's body was still tingling from where he had connected with the banyan grove tree to discover his missing friends' location. For a moment he had ceased to exist as a single entity; he had felt the life force of the whole swamp pulsing through his body as if he were not just made of human organs and limbs but also leaves and roots. It had been a strange and wonderful experience, yet there had also been something else. A shadow lurking amongst the rush of energy, like a shiver of the otherworldly caressing his soul. Like a part of him had stepped into the Spirit World.

_"Everything is connected."_

The words had echoed in his mind, but then he had seen the vision of Appa and Momo being captured by a group of men wielding nets, and whatever new epiphany he had been about to make had been replaced with fear and anger. Aang had not wasted another second.

After breaking his connection with the tree, he had told the others they had to hurry, and with that they had all raced off to save their missing companions. As it turned out, no rescue attempt was needed. The swampbenders were delighted to find that Katara was also a waterbender, even going so far as to call her "kin". Instead of having to do battle, Aang and the others were invited to come back to their village and have dinner.

"Even if we can't have leemo and that fella with the six legs, we got some good possum-chicken and grub that'll do just as well," the swampbender named Tho said with a grin.

"Sounds good to me," Sokka said with a shrug. "Aang, Katara?"

"Food would be nice," Katara agreed, clutching a hand to her rumbling stomach.

Aang nodded, if a little distractedly. There were two boats floating on the water—well, make that one, since he had pretty much destroyed the other—and while he had managed to free Appa and Momo, there was no sign of Lee. Not even a hint. He turned to Tho. "We're still missing one of our friends. You haven't seen him, have you? He wears a Blue Spirit mask and—"

"Oh, you mean that scarred boy?" Due interjected. "Found'em back yonder. Lifeless as a stuffed catgator, he was, and I said, 'Tho, I think this boy be dead' and then—"

"What?" Aang exclaimed.

"—we realised he was still breathin," Due continued, causing Aang to sigh with relief. "So we got Bo to take'em back to the village."

"So he's there now?" Aang demanded.

"Yes, but—"

"Then let's go!"

Due and Tho exchanged a glance, then just shrugged and told everyone to hop aboard that "big fella with the six legs" so they could follow, since there wasn't enough room on the boat. Once this arrangement was settled, the group took off down the river at a rapid pace. For Aang, it could not be fast enough. His stomach felt like it had twisted itself into one giant knot of worry, for he had not missed the fact that Due had described Lee as that "scarred boy". That meant Zuko was no longer wearing his mask. Aang didn't want to consider the implications of what that might mean. It was bad enough just knowing that Zuko had been found unconscious.

By the time they reached the village, Aang was practically bouncing on his feet in his desperation. He leapt from Appa, glancing about the settlement as if he expected Zuko to magically appear. Instead, a scattering of huts raised on wooden stilts greeted his vision like grassy domes that had sprouted up from the earth. There was a blackened patch of dirt in the centre of the village where he assumed a bonfire must usually burn, and around that stood a group of men and women dressed in various bits of green cloth and leaves. Aang would have dismissed the group entirely had he not seen one of the men slip a blue mask over his face and then strut a pose as if to demand of his fellow swamp folk what they thought of his new fashion statement.

"Hey," Sokka said, "isn't that—"

"The Blue Spirit's mask?" Katara finished for him.

Aang's cheeks flushed with anger. "What have you done to Lee?" he shouted, raising his staff in a threatening gesture.

"Lee?" the swampbender responded, raising the mask from his face and pursing his lips. "Oh, you must mean that scarred fella we found while huntin." He pointed to one of the huts. "He's in there just—"

But the swampbender never got to finish his sentence. One second Aang was standing there with his staff raised, the next he was a blur of orange that was rushing forward to snatch the mask before darting inside the hut, too fast for anyone to follow. Aang inhaled sharply as he glanced around the shadowed room, heart thudding against his ribs. He spotted Zuko asleep on a bed of leaves, and exhaled in relief.

"Lee," Aang said, kneeling beside him and giving him a gentle shake. "Lee, wake up."

Zuko's head lolled to the side, showing only the twisted, scarred part of his face. His eyes remained shut.

Aang's brow creased. "Come on, Lee. Don't do this to me again. You have to snap out of—"

"Everything okay?"

Aang froze. Heart thumping, he quickly slipped the mask over Lee's face and was just fastening the ties at the back to make sure the disguise would not fall off when Sokka and Katara strode fully into the hut.

Katara knelt beside Aang in an instant, already reaching out for Zuko. "What happened? Is he hurt?" She paused when she saw the grinning swirl of blue and white. "Oh, you put the mask back on him."

Aang bit his lip, lowering his gaze. "It's just—it's just better this way. He wouldn't want you to see his face."

"Because he's scarred?" Sokka asked, folding his arms and staring at Zuko with a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "That's what that swamp guy said, right?"

Aang swallowed. His heart felt like it was going to force itself out of his throat. "I don't know." He forced a shrug. "Maybe."

Katara trailed her fingers over the painted wood. "He can't think that we would care about that, can he?"

Beads of sweat started to form on Aang's forehead. Why did they have to keep asking him about this? He didn't want to lie, he really didn't. and—

There was a soft groan from the bed of leaves. All eyes fixed on Zuko, who made another pained noise and then raised a hand to his head, swaying slightly as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Easy there," Katara said, reaching out to steady him.

He shrugged off her touch with a sharp, jerky movement. Something about the reflex made Aang's stomach twist in unease; it whispered of a boy with a scar, so tense and defensive. Without realising it, Aang was standing and putting some distance between the two of them. Unfortunately, the motion only drew attention.

"You," Zuko growled, getting to his feet.

Aang's heart thudded against his ribs.

Zuko advanced in swift, purposeful strides, completely ignoring the Water Tribe siblings. "What aren't you telling me?" he hissed, grabbing Aang by his collar and shoving him against the wall.

Aang's eyes widened. "Lee, please—"

"Tell me the truth!"

A sickly fear was turning in Aang's gut, reminding him of all the lies he had been telling, all the truths he had been omitting. He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know if he even should respond, but then a hand clamped down on Zuko's shoulder, yanking him away.

"What's wrong with you?" Sokka demanded. "Have you gone insane?"

Zuko made a frustrated sound and pointed his finger at Aang. "Ask him if he hasn't been lying to me this whole time! Ask him if he doesn't know the truth about my past!"

Katara stepped forward, reaching out to him with a tentative hand. "Lee, you need to calm down. I know you're upset, but—"

"No," Aang said in a small voice. "He's right. I haven't been entirely honest with him."

A strained silence followed this admission. Aang risked a glance at Sokka and saw his surprise and disappointment. It was the map incident all over again and it made the writhing knot in Aang's stomach give a painful twist, but it was too late to take back his words now. Sucking in a deep breath, he turned to face Katara, though he was careful to avoid Zuko's gaze.

"I'm sorry, but could you guys give us a minute?" Aang asked softly. "I need to talk to Lee alone."

"But—"

"Please," Aang said, meeting her eyes.

Katara stared at him for a long moment. She was the only one who had known that he had been keeping information from Zuko, for it was she who had overheard him talking in the tent that day after the fight in Omashu. He knew that she had not approved of his decision then and it was clear by the downward tilt of her mouth that she was still unhappy. It was becoming more and more obvious that he was keeping secrets from all of them and that his request was simply another attempt to evade a confrontation. Aang wasn't proud of his behaviour, but just the thought of how his two friends might react if they knew Lee's identity had him grasping for any straw, any chance to keep the truth from them for a little longer. Just a little longer.

_"Gran Gran always told me that keeping a secret from someone is like walking over thin ice: eventually it's going to crack."_

The warning echoed in his mind as clearly as if Katara had spoken aloud, but he simply gave her a pleading look, begging her to give him more time. Just a little more time, and then he would tell her and Sokka everything.

_Please,_ he silently urged.

Katara let out a small breath. "Fine," she said, turning away. "Come on, Sokka."

"What? But—"

"If Aang wants to talk to Lee alone, we'll let him talk to Lee alone."

Sokka opened his mouth to retort but then groaned in resignation and followed his sister out of the hut. Zuko did not move, but his shoulders were hunched in tension, and though Aang could not see his expression, he could feel the intensity of those golden eyes. Suddenly, it was very hard to look at the blue mask, let alone stand in the hut with Zuko.

"When were you going to tell me the truth?" Zuko asked in a low, bitter voice. "Or did you just hope that my memories wouldn't return so that you wouldn't have to deal with the issue?"

Aang winced and lowered his gaze. "I didn't mean for things to get this out of control. I was only trying to—"

"Trying to what? Why would you act like I was your friend when you knew I was your enemy?"

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. "Because I never wanted us to be enemies."

A sharp intake of breath. "What?"

"You saved my life. I couldn't just forget that and—"

"So you thought you'd pretend I was your ally?"

"No, no!" Aang exclaimed, moving his hands in a gesture of denial. "It wasn't like that at all. You actually did help me a few times and I thought we were coming to an understanding, but then …" He trailed off, remembering what had happened at the North Pole. Remembering how furious and unforgiving Zuko had been.

"But what? Tell me!"

Aang just shook his head. He didn't know how to explain. He didn't even want to explain, for he knew it would be the end of their tentative friendship. So many things had gone wrong at the North Pole. Just thinking about that day made fresh bruises swell on his heart, painful and throbbing. He didn't want to relive it, and he was just so worried. It was obvious that "Lee" hadn't regained all of his memories. What if Aang just made things worse by being honest? What if it wasn't even necessary? The ice was cracking all around him now, he could see that, but maybe there was a chance to salvage the mess. Maybe there was still a way to fix this problem without having everyone hate him.

Without Zuko hating him.

Zuko made a frustrated sound at Aang's silence and turned the other way. "Just tell me the truth, Avatar," he said flatly. "It can't be any worse than what my memories have already shown me."

Aang perked up at that. "What did they show you?"

Zuko's shoulders slumped as he gazed down at his hands. "I think I saw my home. It was in the Fire Nation and there was a woman there. My mother. She took care of me, but then ... then she was gone and there was this man who …" He struggled for a moment and a shudder went through his body, even as he reached up to touch the mask that covered his face directly where Aang knew the scar would be.

Frowning, Aang opened his mouth to ask if Zuko was okay.

"I was banished," Zuko said in a low voice, speaking quickly now. "I don't know why, but I had to leave. I travelled on a ship with my uncle and I was searching for something—you, I think—but then the ship got blown up and after that I guess I just ..." He gave a twitchy sort of shrug.

"Lost your memories," Aang finished for him.

Silence stretched between them, tense and almost tangible.

"What aren't you telling me, Avatar?" Zuko repeated in a hoarse voice. "I know there is more to this than what my memories have shown me."

Aang bit down on his lip and dropped his gaze to his feet. "I don't know what to say."

"How about the truth. You owe me that much."

"You don't understand. I was never trying to hurt you. I just wanted to—"

"Enough!" Zuko cried, slamming his fist against the wall. "I don't care what you were trying to do. Just stop skirting the issue for once in your life and tell me what you know about my past! Why was I searching for you? Do you know my real name? Do you know who I was before I became the Blue Spirit?" He stepped forward, grabbing Aang by the shoulders. "Tell me!"

Aang just shook his head and continued to stare at the ground, feeling a burning lump choke his throat. He could hear Lee's harsh breathing, feel the bruising fingers digging into his bones, but it was all a blur to his mind. He was just so confused, so trapped, so unbearably sad. All he had to do was tell the truth, but it was the truth that would destroy everything he had hoped to gain: understanding, trust, friendship.

Zuko straightened to his full height, letting his hands slip away from Aang's shoulders. "I don't believe this," he said with a bitter laugh. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"You don't know what you're asking of me," Aang whispered, still not raising his face. "You don't know what this would mean for you. For all of us."

"It's my life! You don't have the right to deny me that knowledge!"

With that, Zuko wrenched the mask away from his face and threw it on the ground. Aang's eyes widened as he saw the grinning mask clatter into view, disturbing some of the scattered leaves until it stopped at his feet.

"What are you doing?" Aang asked, looking up at the older boy—the scruffy-haired boy whose scar was now displayed for all to see.

"I've had enough," Zuko said grimly. "No more lies. No more pretend. If you won't tell me who I am, maybe someone else will."

"No, wait!" Aang cried, clutching his him. "You don't know what you're doing! You don't know the danger you'll be putting yourself in!"

"Then tell me!" Zuko retorted, wrenching his arm free.

Aang blinked away the sting of tears. "I can't."

"Then I'm going."

"No!" Aang lurched forward again, gripping one of Zuko's hands in both of his own. "Please, just wait. Just give me more time."

"More time for what? So you can come up with another lie?"

"That isn't—I'm not ..." Aang gave a despairing sigh and let go of him. "Look, pretty much everyone in the Earth Kingdom sees you as an enemy, and that includes Sokka and Katara. If you go out there, it might ... they might ..."

"Try to kill me?"

Aang swallowed. "Maybe, but they might not if I can talk to them first."

Zuko raised his eyebrow. "Right. I suppose I'm just supposed to be content and wait until you're ready to be honest with me while you try to smooth things over with your friends."

"Exactly!" Aang said, relieved that he was finally catching on.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"But—"

"I'm not an idiot, Avatar. I won't let you trick me into following you around again."

"I'm not trying to trick you! I'm just—" Aang groaned and clutched his hands to his head. "Look, I know I can make this work. Please, just trust me. Just give me more time and I promise I'll tell you everything I know. Just let me get us all out of the swamp first."

Zuko narrowed his eyes. "Why should I trust you? You haven't exactly been honest with me so far."

"Maybe I shouldn't have pretended that I didn't know more about your identity, but I'm trying to make things right now. I just need more time." He picked up the blue mask from the floor and offered it to Zuko. "Just give me a chance. Please."

Zuko stared at him for a long moment, then just sighed and slipped the mask back over his face. He strode out of the hut without a further word. Aang tried to ignore the bitter taste that filled his mouth. He'd got what he wanted—he'd got more time—but he knew the ice under his feet had already cracked. The question now was whether he would simply drown in his lies or if he would manage to make it back to the surface.

Somehow, he already felt like he was sinking.

oOo

The bonfire flared brightly against the night sky, illuminating the group huddled around it with an orange glow. It should have been a cosy scene, a friendly scene, but a whisper of tension lingered between Aang and his travelling companions. It was impossible for any of them to truly relax. Zuko was the most reserved, sitting apart from the rest of them in the shadows. The white paint on his mask flickered oddly in the firelight, but he didn't say a word, nor did he bother to eat any of the food.

Aang frowned and stared at his own meal (roasted bug on a stick). He sighed and handed the "food" to Momo, who ate the crunchy insect happily. Apparently, swamp people didn't make meals that were vegetarian friendly. It was all possum-chicken and oversized bugs.

He repressed another sigh and rested his chin on his hands, watching the flames twist and dance. Dimly, he was aware of Katara and Sokka talking to the swamp folk about the South Pole and different styles of waterbending. He was about to tune the conversation out entirely when the siblings moved on to discussing whether anything strange had been happening in the swamp.

"What about our visions?" Katara asked.

"I told you," Sokka responded. "We were hungry." He held up his half-eaten insect. "I'm eating a giant bug!"

"But what about when the tree showed me where Appa and Momo were?" Aang asked, curious to know what the logic-driven boy would think.

Sokka waved his hand airily. "That's Avatar stuff. That doesn't count." He glanced at Huu. "The only thing I can't figure out is how you made that tornado that sucked us down."

Huu shook his head. "I can't do anythin' like that. I just bend the water in the plants."

"It was an airbender."

Everyone turned to look at Zuko, who had stood up from his spot in the shadows and was now walking towards them.

"That's not possible," Sokka said, casting a cautious look at Aang. "The airbenders were all wiped out. Aang is the last one."

Zuko folded his arms across his chest. "That tornado came out of nowhere and we all saw the way it moved. It followed us even though we sped up and flew away from its likely path. Only an airbender can do that."

Aang swallowed, conscious of the way his heart pounded like a frantic drum in his chest. "Do you think it's possible? Do you think there could be more airbenders?"

"It's the only logical explanation."

Huu rubbed his chin. "I don't know 'bout there bein' any airbenders in the swamp, but there is somethin' you might want to see."

Intrigued, the four, along with Momo, followed the swampbender back to the banyan grove tree's trunk. Instead of going up to the surface, like they had before, he took them down into a tunnel hidden beneath the bared roots. Aang gasped when he saw the stone door carved into the wood and surrounding dirt. Its surface was bare except for three tubes that connected to two horn-like shapes at the end. All it needed was the symbol of the Air Nomads and it would be identical to the doors he had seen in the Southern and Northern Air Temples.

"What is this?" Aang whispered.

Huu tapped a hand against the stone. "There are lots of stories about this here door. Some say that, about a hundred years ago, some people came to the swamp seekin' refuge and made a home for themselves beyond this wall. Others say this is the door to the Spirit World." He shrugged. "All I know is that this here is the heart of the banyan grove tree and there don't be anyone in our tribe who can make material like this." He tapped the stone again.

"Can you open it?" Katara asked Aang in a hushed voice.

Aang took a step forward. "There's only one way to find out."

Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath and exhaled, pushing out with his hands to create two gusts of wind that shot into the horns. A loud humming sound echoed around them as the air rushed through the tubes, like the drone of a hundred voices, and it only got louder as the three locks were released from the pressure. Then the stone started to part, grating and groaning as it revealed a darkened room, and overwhelming them with the musty scent of the forgotten. Aang coughed and took another step forward, then hesitated. What if there was nothing in there? What if there was? He didn't know how to feel about either situation.

Katara slipped her hand in his, telling him in a wordless gesture that she would be right there with him. Bolstered, he inhaled another deep breath and, hand-in-hand, they walked into the cave. Sokka followed closely behind, carrying a flaming torch for light. Zuko, Momo and Huu trailed at the rear. No one said a word, conscious of the significance of what they were doing. This could be the last Air Nomad sanctuary in the world, perhaps their only chance to find another airbender, and it was—

"Empty," Aang said in flat voice, releasing Katara's hand and staring around the room. "There's no one here. Just abandoned beds and Air Nomad robes."

Katara pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Aang."

He barely returned the gesture. It was the Southern Air Temple all over again and it just made him feel dead inside.

Sokka swept the torch around, letting the light reach right into the corners. "Doesn't look like anyone has been here for a long—hey, a chest!"

Aang and Katara exchanged a hopeful glance and rushed after Sokka, who was now kneeling in front of the box with Momo chirruping at his side. Sokka thrust the torch at his sister, who took it from him, and then he tugged at the lid. And tugged. And then finally resorted to clamping it between his knees and pulling with all his might.

"Um, I think it's locked," Katara observed.

"I know that!" Sokka panted and slumped down on his backside. "I was just seeing if I could get it open!"

"Maybe there's a key around here somewhere," Aang muttered. He snatched the torch from Katara and began to search the cave.

Sokka rested his elbows on the box. "It'll be small. Most likely brass, like the lock."

Aang nodded and continued hunting; however, even after he had searched every nook and cranny, as well as every robe and bit of cloth, he couldn't find any sign of the key. "Monkey feathers!" he cursed, swinging back around to face the others. "What are we going to do?"

Katara pursed her lips in thought. "We could always try breaking it open."

"Right!" Sokka exclaimed, and raised the box to crack it against the ground.

Zuko stepped forward from where he had lingered beside Huu. "Wait, I think I have an idea."

Aang chewed on his lip as Zuko knelt and took the box from Sokka. For a wild moment, he wondered if Zuko was going to firebend—not that the thought bothered him so much just then if it meant opening the chest—but instead Zuko pulled a dagger out from his boot and slid the tip into the keyhole.

"Of course!" Sokka exclaimed, smacking his palm against his forehead. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Zuko said nothing and continued to wiggle the blade around until there was a small click. Aang held his breath as the lid was lifted and revealed rolled up pieces of rice paper.

"Scrolls," Katara said softly, peering over her brother's shoulder for a better look. "It's a box of scrolls."

"I was kind of hoping for treasure," Sokka mumbled, looking a bit disappointed.

Katara narrowed her eyes.

"What?" Sokka said with a shrug. "Don't deny that you weren't thinking it as well."

Aang didn't see Katara's reaction, as just then Zuko held the chest out to him, presenting it on bended knee as if it really were some grand offering to a king. Zuko didn't say anything, but then he didn't need to. Despite everything that had happened between them earlier that day, both recognised the sacredness of this moment.

Heart quickening, Aang handed the torch back to Katara and reached into the box to pull out the scrolls. They were thin and bound together with an orange ribbon, but being sealed away in the chest had stopped the rice paper from decaying and crumbling apart. Whatever was written on this legacy of the Air Nomads would still be legible. His hand trembled slightly as he undid the tie and unfurled one of the scrolls. "I need more light," he whispered.

Katara moved closer with the torch, as did everyone else. Even Huu and Momo seemed curious to know what the scrolls had to say, though, judging by the creases on each of their brows, it was unlikely that either could understand the characters that had been drawn onto the paper in graceful strokes of ink. Not that Aang paid much attention to the others. The moment he had started to read what turned out to be a personal record of an Air Nomad named Tenzin, it was as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. He read about how Tenzin and a group of Air Nomads had heard rumours that the Fire Nation was going to attack on the day of the comet; how they fled with their young airbenders in training, knowing that they stood no chance against such a force.

_"It was for the children,"_ Tenzin wrote. _"I couldn't just let them die, even though it pained me to abandon my brothers and sisters in the temples. In these little ones was our hope for the future. The hope of all Air Nomads. They had to survive."_

Aang felt something prickle in his eyes, and the characters blurred in and out of focus. He wiped away his tears with an impatient rub of his hand and continued to read. He learned that Tenzin eventually took his group of refugees to the swamp where they thought the Fire Nation army wouldn't think to look for them. The swamp people welcomed them with open arms; however, just in case the firebenders should come searching, the Air Nomads built a home at the base of the banyan grove tree, hoping that the hallowed ground would give them further protection.

_"But it was all for nothing,"_ Tenzin wrote. _"We are people of freedom and spirit. We were not meant to be like the badgermoles who burrow deep into the ground, content to be shut away and live in darkness."_

"No," Aang whispered as he reached the end of the account, bile rising in his throat.

"What?" Sokka asked. "What do the scrolls say?"

"They lost their bending," Aang answered in a hoarse voice, but to him it sounded like someone else was speaking. "Every one of them. Even the children. Their bending just vanished."

"But how?" Katara asked, taking the scrolls from Aang and scanning the lines. "How can someone just lose their bending? I know that girl in pink managed to stop mine for a while, but it still came back."

"Airbenders have built their lives upon the expression of freedom," Aang explained. "The design of the temples, the way we love the skies because it has no boundaries. Freedom is everything to us. It's who we are. It's what—"

"Fuels your bending," Zuko said softly.

Aang nodded. "So when the Air Nomads were forced into hiding and couldn't fly or bend like they used to, it crushed their spirits. It—"

"Made them lose their ability to bend," Sokka finished in a grim voice.

Katara wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "That's awful. To lose your bending would be like losing a part of yourself."

Aang stared around the small cave, wondering how it must have felt for the group of Air Nomads to be trapped within these four walls and slowly feel their bending get sucked away. He wondered if that was why they had ultimately decided to give up the Air Nomad way of life, choosing instead to become part of the Swamp Tribe or leaving to make a new life for themselves in other parts of the Earth Kingdom. They must have been desperate for any kind of freedom, but it still wouldn't have been enough. None of it would have been enough, because there were no sky bison to ride and no winds to carry them high above the clouds.

Something hot rolled down Aang's cheek. So he really was all alone. Even if there were other Air Nomads out there, or even just descendants of the surviving airbender children, they probably wouldn't be able to bend. They would no longer understand, because they had all lost their spirit. The Fire Nation had indeed destroyed the airbenders, whether through fire or the slow death of suffocation and repression.

"This is a tragic end indeed," Huu observed in his slow, calming voice. "I never knew."

"None of us knew," Aang responded hollowly. "I thought—I had hoped—"

"We know, Aang," Katara murmured, hugging him close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sokka wrapped his arm around both of them, completing the circle. Even Momo joined in, tucking himself around Aang's neck like a scarf.

"I don't understand," Zuko muttered, staring at the scrolls. "If there are no airbenders left, who made that tornado?"

Aang pulled away from his friends and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "I think I know. It's like Huu said." He gave a nod to the swampbender. "Everything is connected."

Sokka scratched his chin. "Come again?"

"Time and death are just illusions," Huu said with a placid smile. "We all share the same roots, just like how—"

"The swamp started from a single banyan tree," Sokka cut in. "Yeah, yeah, we've heard all this before. That still doesn't tell me what Aang meant." He narrowed his eyes. "And please don't tell me that the tree has learnt to airbend because of the Air Nomads who used to live here, because I think my brain just might implode even trying to comprehend how that works."

Aang couldn't help but laugh, despite the ache that continued to bruise his heart. "Not exactly, Sokka. What I meant was that even though we're all connected in some way, the connection goes even deeper with the banyan grove tree. I can't believe I didn't realise it sooner, because I got the same feeling when I stepped into the Spirit Oasis and looked into the water with the circling koi fish."

Zuko gave a twitch, but it was Katara who spoke.

"What about the Spirit Oasis?" she asked. "And what does that have to do with the swamp?"

"This isn't just a really big tree," Aang explained. "It's a portal to the Spirit World, perhaps the very first to be created. People feel closer to those who have died here because the spirits are closer."

Sokka rubbed the base of his neck. "So … does that mean the tree learnt to airbend?"

Huu stepped forward. "I think you'll find it was the spirits of the Air Nomads usin' what power they have left to summon your friend here to the banyan grove tree. I believe they wanted the Avatar to find this place, and to help him find an earthbendin' teacher."

"He's right, you know," a much older voice murmured in Aang's ear.

Aang turned, almost stumbling backwards as he saw the old man standing beside him, looking very blue and transparent. "Avatar Roku!" he exclaimed.

The others shot Aang a surprised glance.

"They can't see or hear me," Roku said, while Sokka and Katara proceeded to ask Aang what he was talking about. "The divide between the two worlds might be at its thinnest here, but I still cannot make myself physically known to anyone but the Avatar except on the day of a solstice."

"Oh."

Roku smiled, though the expression was tinged with sadness. "I know it has hurt you to see this place, Aang. You were hoping that you would find more airbenders here, weren't you?"

Aang's shoulders slumped. "Yes," he admitted, slipping into the silent form of his spirit self. "I saw what had happened at the Southern and Northern Air Temples. I knew that everyone was calling me the last airbender, but I still ... I just ..." His voice cracked a little. "The world is so big, Roku. I was so certain that some of them had to have escaped."

"And so they did, but those who were meant to fly cannot thrive in a small cage."

"I know." Aang stared down at his feet. "I read Tenzin's scrolls. I know they lost their ability to bend while trying to hide from the Fire Nation."

"Then you understand why the spirits of the Air Nomads summoned you here and why they showed you a vision of the girl who will become your earthbending teacher."

Aang shook his head. He could only guess, but he wasn't certain.

"Balance, Aang," Roku gave him a much fuller smile. "That is the key. By defeating the Fire Lord, you will restore balance to the world. The spirits of the Air Nomads have been grieving all this time. They wait for when the skies will be a place of freedom again."

Aang's eyes glistened with hope. He had finally caught on to what Roku was saying, as well as what Tenzin and the other Air Nomads had tried to tell him by bringing him to their old sanctuary.

"If I defeat the Fire Lord," he said quietly, "new airbenders will be born, won't they?"

"I believe so. There may even be people in the world right now who have the ability hidden dormant inside them, but first you must restore balance to the world. You must master the elements and defeat the Fire Lord before the comet arrives. It is the only way."

Aang opened his eyes and joined his spirit with his body, letting the transparent form of his past life fade away. "I understand," he said aloud.

Sokka stared at him with his mouth hanging open. "Uh, what just happened? You said Avatar Roku's name and then you went all glowy."

"It's nothing." Aang's mouth curved into a faint smile. "I just finally got the message, that's all."

oOo

Saying goodbye to the swamp folk turned out to be harder than Aang expected. There were many, like Huu, who had grey eyes—people who could be descendants of the Air Nomads who had chosen to live in the swamp, even though their mannerisms and attire suggested otherwise. Yet even as Huu invited Aang and the others to stay for the night, Aang knew that they had to keep moving. For one thing, he was getting really hungry. For another, it just felt like the weight of the dead Air Nomads was pressing down on him the longer he stayed, urging him to leave and search for the girl he saw in his vision.

So he and his companions once more piled on top of Appa, and with a soft "yip, yip" they were taking off into the sky, leaving the swamp and its truths and illusions behind. Katara and Sokka quickly settled into their usual routine of light teasing and conversation, but Aang noticed that Zuko had once more become distant, retreating into his corner on the saddle and not saying a word to anyone. The sanctuary might have soothed some of Aang's troubles, even though it had also hurt to learn that he was truly alone, but it had not helped Zuko. There was only one thing that could help Zuko.

_"It's my life! You don't have the right to deny me that knowledge!"_

Aang hunched into himself, turning his back on Zuko as if by doing so he could somehow block out the voice that hissed in his mind. He would tell him the truth. Just not yet. So much had already happened, and he still hadn't figured out what he was going to say to Sokka and Katara. No, it was best just to wait. Maybe later he could talk to them. First he just needed to find a place for them to camp for the night—and some vegetarian friendly food.

_I just need more time. Just a little more time._

He was still repeating the mantra to himself when he curled up in the tent beside Katara and drifted off to sleep.

oOo

Sokka was not known for being a light sleeper. Once his eyes had shut and the snores started, he was likely to stay that way until someone prodded him with a stick or yelled in his ear. As such, he was most disgruntled when his eyelashes gave a flutter and he found himself staring up at the darkened canvas of their tent and listening to his sister and Aang breathe. So much for getting a good night's rest away from the croaking noisiness of the swamp.

He sat up in his sleeping bag, wondering if Momo had jumped on his stomach or tried reaching into his mouth again. A quick survey of the tent revealed the lemur tucked up like a fuzzy ball with ears not far from Aang, which meant that it was something else that had woken Sokka. That was when he noticed that Lee's bag and blanket were gone.

Frowning, he got quietly to his feet and made his way out of the tent. He spotted Lee sitting by the smouldering embers of the campfire and examining something in his hand. A closer look showed the white shimmer of a blade glinting in the moonlight. It was the dagger Lee had used to open the chest.

"That's a nice dagger," Sokka observed.

"It was a gift from my uncle. It's the only thing I really have left from my past."

Sokka took a seat next to him. "Can I have a look?"

Lee handed it over without a word. He seemed content to just stare at the embers, lost in his own thoughts. A crease formed on Sokka's brow. He glanced at the dagger now resting on his palms. It was beautifully crafted with a black hilt that only emphasised the pearl-like colour of the blade. He ran his finger over the characters that had been etched on either side.

"Made in Earth Kingdom, huh?" Sokka said with a chuckle. "Someone's idea of a joke?"

Lee just shrugged. "I don't think I ever really paid much attention to that inscription."

"No," Sokka mused, flipping the blade over. "You do seem more of the 'never give up without a fight' type."

Lee made a noncommittal sound. It was obvious that he was thinking about other things. Sokka stared at him for a moment, wondering if he should say something more. Then he just repressed a sigh and handed the dagger back before standing up and stretching his arms with a yawn. There was no point trying to have a conversation with someone who clearly didn't feel like talking, even if Sokka did have many questions that needed answers. It wasn't as if Aang had bothered to tell them anything after that little incident in the hut.

"I'm heading back to bed," Sokka said, smothering another yawn. "Wake one of us up when you get tired, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Sokka gave a forced smile and then walked back to the tent, glad to escape the awkward one-on-one. He'd definitely leave the mushy, emotional stuff to Katara. As he settled back in his sleeping bag, however, it occurred to him that he had forgotten to ask why Lee had packed up all of his belongings.

_Oh well_, Sokka thought, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. _Maybe he's just paranoid that Momo will steal his stuff or something._

With that dismissive thought, Sokka soon fell fast asleep. No one did get woken up to replace Lee for watch duty.

oOo

Aang was worried. There was no sign of Zuko. Katara said that she hadn't seen him all morning and a quick search of the tent revealed that his bag had gone missing. However, it was Sokka who delivered the final blow. He told them about the conversation he'd had with Lee the previous night and how he had thought it odd at the time that the other boy had packed up his things. He should have realised that Lee was planning on leaving.

Something cold and heavy settled in Aang's stomach, as if an invisible stone had been shoved down his throat. He understood now that Zuko had never planned on staying. Zuko had taken back the mask, but it wasn't because he had wanted to give Aang another chance. No, he had meant what he had said that day in the hut.

_"No more lies. No more pretend. If you won't tell me who I am, maybe someone else will."_

Aang let out a small breath. He had really outdone himself this time. He had evaded telling the truth for so long that now there was nothing to tell. Zuko was gone, and in his heart Aang knew that he would not be coming back.

"What should we do?" Katara asked. "Do you think we should look for him?"

"No," Aang said softly, and it broke his heart to say the words. "If Lee doesn't want to be found, he won't be found."

It was perhaps the most crushing realisation about this situation. Amnesia or not, Zuko knew Aang too well. He would make sure that they could not follow, and in that they had no choice but to keep moving forward. Katara's Gran Gran had been right. The ice had cracked and there could be no going back. All Aang could do now was hope that their paths would meet again and he would get that second chance he had wasted with his lies. Maybe it was a foolish hope after everything that had happened, but Aang refused to give up.

He would never give up on Zuko.

* * *

Keeping in mind this was written pre-LOK, what we have here is my theory for how that tornado came about and why the airbenders just seemed to vanish entirely. I found it difficult to believe that the Fire Nation managed to track down every single airbender considering the race is nomadic and wouldn't exactly be living in the temples all the time. I also just felt that it didn't make sense that no new airbenders were born in the last hundred years, whether bending is a genetic thing or not.

Then there's the fact Zuko's firebending was mega weakened in S3 when he lost all the rage that fuelled it (sure, he was able to find a new source, but firebending is more linked with willpower anyway). So that got me thinking about what might fuel airbending and what would happen if you somehow removed that source. Hence, the concept of "spirit" that Aang talks about in the NAT episode. He says when he first spots the kids gliding, "They're not airbending. Those people have no spirit." Which is kind of a dick thing to say, really, but whatever. Aang was in a mood.

Point is, he specifically links airbending to "spirit", which correlates (at least to me) with an expression of freedom. Crush that freedom and spirit and it seems pretty likely the airbenders would be weakened. Crush that on a prolonged basis (especially when the airbenders who did survive the genocide are still being hunted) and I can see how that bending ability would get weak enough that you wouldn't be able to tell if they were airbenders or not.

Finally, just consider evolution itself. If something is going to get a species killed because of its genetic makeup, nature finds a way to fix that through mutation (at least from what I remember from high school science … it's been a while).  
Anyway, put that in a spiritual perspective and what looks like a spiritual defect (not being able to airbend) is also what's protecting new airbenders from being rounded up or just plain having their spirits crushed all over again. Since airbenders are supposed to be super spiritual as well, I can see how a hundred years of grief, suppression and mass genocide could create this spiritual block/defect to stop new airbenders from manifesting. As in they do exist, but their powers are dormant until the spiritual wounds caused by the war are healed and balance is restored.

Or, you know, something like that …


	11. Little Soldier Boy

The town was like any other to be found in the southern parts of the Earth Kingdom, if not a little rundown. Some of the buildings sported half-collapsed roofs and had clearly been abandoned while others were in sore need of a paint job. For Iroh, however, it was the most welcoming sight in the world. His feet were aching and covered in blisters from walking, and the weight of his bag, once barely noticeable, now seemed to weigh down his shoulders as if he were carrying a komodo-rhino on his back. So long as there was a tavern where he could get a drink and enjoy a relaxing game of Pai Sho, he didn't care what the place looked like. But first he would need to stock up on supplies.

He made his way towards the market stalls, ignoring the stares of the townsfolk as he calculated how much money he could spend on food and whether he would have enough for a room at the inn. He was no stranger to sleeping outdoors, and would if he had to, but the untended garden never did bring forth sweet fruit. In his mind, it was better economy to indulge oneself now and then to nourish the parched soils of the heart so that one might better be able to perform one's duty, or so he had tried to explain to his nephew whenever Zuko had complained about music night. Or the extended shopping expeditions. Or pretty much anything that wasn't to do with capturing the Avatar.

A faint smile curved Iroh's lips as he thought of how frustrated Zuko had used to get, but the expression faded a second later. It still hurt to think of his nephew, even though he knew that Zuko was alive. Guilt and fear were a constant presence in Iroh's chest, as if the emotions had been weaved into his heartbeat. If only he had stayed with Zuko in the North Pole. If only he could find a new lead …

"Hey, old timer! Are you going to buy anything or are you just going to keep standing there blocking my stall?" the fish trader snapped, driving his knife into the chopping board with a thud and raising one bushy eyebrow.

Iroh blinked out of his daze and apologised to the man before moving down the lane, keeping an eye out for any promising stalls. A group of children dashed past in a blur of greens and browns, laughing and clutching what looked like Deuk Deuk Tong sweets in their hands. He smiled and watched their progress when something collided with the back of his legs. Surprised, he glanced down and saw the smallest of the children staring up at him with a wide-eyed expression. Sugary stains were smeared over her cheeks and mouth from where she had touched her face with her sticky fingers, which still clutched the rest of her treat as if it were a piece of gold instead of a common sweet.

"Pardon me, young miss," Iroh said, inclining his head to her with a smile and moving out of her way.

She bestowed him with a toothy grin and ran off to join her peers, not giving him a second glance as she demanded that the other children slow down so she could catch up to them. Iroh chuckled softly. It seemed that no matter one's nation or social standing, children would be children. Apparently, the woman working at the fruit stand near him agreed, if her clucking tongue was any indication.

"Those kids," she muttered, shaking her head. "Always up to mischief, they are, and never a thought to spare for those around them. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

Iroh waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "It is no problem. I have come to find that the smile of a child is a rare sight indeed and should always be appreciated, whatever the circumstances."

"I suppose you're right," she said thoughtfully, and then her lips curved into a grin. "In any case, is there anything I can get you? Our town might be falling to pieces, but my stall still boasts the finest fruit in the South!"

Iroh smiled at her sales pitch and picked up a papaya to examine its ripeness, half-listening to the conversations going on around him out of habit than because he actually found the subject matter interesting. It was always the same things: how the cost of food just kept on rising as the war continued, how the Fire Nation was steadily taking over the Southwest and would be on their doorsteps soon, how the Avatar had returned and was rumoured to be just a child. Iroh had heard it all before, but then the shopkeeper running the stall beside him said something that he had not been expecting.

"Did you hear about that young man who wandered into town last night?"

"Young man?" a woman clutching a baby asked.

"Yeah, some stranger with a big scar on his face. Caused quite a stir, apparently." The shopkeeper lowered his voice. "Rumour has it he has yellow eyes."

Iroh paused, barely hearing the woman mutter something about half-bloods and bad luck. His heart quickened as he stared at the papaya in his hands. Could it be that he had at last found his nephew?

"Excuse me," he said, turning to the shopkeeper, "but can you tell me where I might find this young man?"

The shopkeeper scratched his bald head. "Well now, last I heard he was staying with old Wei at the tavern." He paused as if realising Iroh was also a stranger to the town. "Why, you know him?"

Iroh explained how he had got separated from his nephew and had reason to believe the scarred young man and his relative were the same person. The woman with the baby threw him a suspicious look and held her child closer to her chest as if trying to protect the pudgy-faced infant from Iroh—no doubt remembering the rumour about the young man's eyes. He wondered what she would have done if she realised the colour had not signified half-blood but Fire Nation prince, and that he himself was the legendary Dragon of the West. It was an amusing, if somewhat sad, thought, but he didn't allow himself to be sidetracked.

Fortunately, the shopkeeper and the owner of the fruit stall (who had joined the conversation after eavesdropping), were not so prejudiced against travellers with yellow-eyed nephews and were more than happy to give him directions to the tavern. Soon, Iroh was bowing in thanks to both traders and making his way down the lane, his bag now heavier with supplies. Not that he minded the weight anymore.

He hummed under his breath as he walked, trying to stay calm. It would not do to count his pig-roosters before they hatched, but it was hard not to get his hopes up when everything matched. A young man with a scar. Check. Yellow eyes. (Well, technically Zuko's were pale gold, but most foreigners did just label all fire-tinted irises yellow.) Check. Even the fact that the young man had been wandering alone. It all fit. It all pointed to the fact that Zuko was somewhere in this rundown town, and Iroh was only heartbeats from finding him.

Iroh inhaled a deep breath and quickened his pace. He had no trouble locating the tavern: a ramshackle building with unlit lanterns hanging from the upper level balconies and two swivel doors adorning the front entrance that looked as if they might come off their hinges any moment. A low hum of voices, intermingled with the sound of a liuqin being played, came from within, whispering of rest and good company. His aching feet definitely liked the sound of that, but now was not the time to be thinking of comfy chairs and Pai Sho.

"I'm coming, Nephew," he murmured, and stepped through the swivel doors.

His first thought was that the tavern was not very well-lit and had a slightly sour scent, as if the straw that layered the ground was rotting. It was certainly nothing like the Cherry Blossom resort he had stayed at after fleeing the North Pole, but the tables were clean and the people seated around in groups or drinking at the bar seemed harmless enough, if inclined to ignore him. There were a few curious glances, but most just chattered among themselves. Clearly, one elderly traveller didn't mean much to these people. He wondered what his nephew had done to garner so much attention. Had it really just been because of the "yellow eyes"?

The old man playing the liuqin nodded to Iroh in greeting. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a man named Wei. I was told I could find him here."

The man's fingers stilled on the strings of his instrument. "And what do you want with Wei?"

"It's not so much him as the young man he's taking care of. Perhaps you could direct me to where I might find the boy?" Iroh flashed a friendly smile. "It's very important that I see him."

The two men stared at each other for a moment—or, rather, the old musician appraised Iroh through shrewd eyes, as if trying to detect some hidden message behind his words. Iroh just smiled. Apparently, whatever the musician saw seemed to satisfy him, because a second later he sighed and placed his liuqin on the floor.

"Follow me," he said, standing up.

oOo

"I'll warn you now he's in bad shape," the old musician said, sliding open the door to his right.

Iroh barely heard the man. He walked into the room as if in a trance, his eyes immediately shifting to the bed where a body-shaped lump could be seen under the blankets. _Almost there_, his heart seemed to say, beating louder and louder. _Almost there_. Then the figure in the bed shifted with a groan and the blankets fell away, revealing the young man's face. Iroh froze as if he had been paralysed. Even his heart seemed to have stopped. Same black hair, same pale skin, same angular features. It was a face he knew as well as his own and one he had not thought he would ever see again.

But this firebender was not Zuko.

Swallowing his disappointment, Iroh knelt beside the bed and clasped the young man's hand in his own. "Kan," he said gently. "Kan, can you hear me?"

Kan stirred, his eyelashes fluttering like broken butterfly-bee wings as he struggled to open his eyes. Or eye. The other was swollen shut with infection, though Iroh doubted Kan would have been able to see out of it anyway. It looked as if someone had taken a knife to his face, leaving a deep, diagonal gash from just above his right eyebrow to his chin, though the wound itself looked weeks old. That must have been what the townsfolk had meant by the big scar.

"So his name is Kan, is it?"

Iroh glanced up to see the musician standing beside him, a sad look in his eyes.

"How did he get like this?" Iroh asked. "Has he said anything to you at all?"

The musician sighed and placed his hand on Iroh's shoulder. "Come. I think it would be better if you and I talked about this somewhere else."

Iroh's gaze flittered back to Kan, who was shifting weakly in the bed and making pained little groans as if trapped in some nightmare where he was stuck fighting the same losing battle. The old musician was right: talking like this was only agitating Kan. Iroh nodded and got to his feet, following the man back out of the sleeping quarters to the room on the opposite side of the hallway. He guessed from the low table that took dominance that this was where the tavern owner entertained his personal guests.

"Please, take a seat," the musician said, gesturing to one of the cushions that had been placed neatly around the table. "I shall prepare us some tea."

"Do you have any ginseng?" Iroh asked, while settling himself comfortably on one of the green cushions. "It's my favourite."

A faint smile touched the old man's lips. "I'll see what I can do."

He exited on the words, leaving Iroh to survey his surroundings. The characters for luck and wealth hung painted in stylised swirls of black ink on scrolls on the wall, but perhaps the spirits had not taken to the calligraphist, for it was obvious that both had eluded the owner of the tavern. Then again, the place was still running when the rest of the town seemed half-abandoned, so perhaps the tavern owner's prayers did not go completely unheard.

Iroh frowned and thought about how strange it was that he should be reunited with one of his old shipmates in this backwater Earth Kingdom tavern. Coincidence some would call it, but Iroh knew there was no such thing as chance. For whatever reason, this reunion was meant to happen. Iroh could only hope that his presence would somehow help Kan to recover. He had been around enough battlefields to know that the young firebender was clinging to life by the barest thread. It made him wonder anew how Kan had got to this state.

The doors slid back and the old musician walked into the room carrying a tray with a porcelain teapot and two cups. He placed the tray on the table and poured the tea into both cups, then set the teapot back on the tray.

"Thank you," Iroh said, accepting the steaming cup that was offered to him.

The old musician nodded and picked up his own cup before taking a seat on the cushion at the opposite end of the table.

Iroh sipped his tea—ginseng, just as he had hoped—and smiled at his host. "I can see now why your establishment is so popular, Master Wei, even in these difficult times. This is fine tea."

Wei's eyes twinkled. "So you guessed who I am, did you?"

"Forgive me, but you weren't exactly subtle."

Wei chuckled, but his amusement faded a second later. "Well, you're right. I am the owner of this establishment, though how long I can keep the place running is another matter entirely. The Fire Nation army is drawing closer every day. Half the townsfolk have already fled for Ba Sing Se, including our healer. That's why I decided to take that boy of yours in. I couldn't just leave him to die on the streets."

"Then there is no healer here at all?" Iroh exclaimed in dismay. "Not even an apprentice?"

"Afraid not." Wei sighed and cradled his cup in his hands, staring at the steam rising from the liquid. "I've tried to help him the best I can with the little medical training I have, but I'm afraid there isn't much anyone can do for him now. That boy is dying. Honestly, I don't know if he will last the night."

Suddenly, Iroh didn't feel like drinking his tea anymore. "And he has said nothing to you at all? Nothing about where he came from or how he got like this?"

Wei scratched his stubbly chin. "He mumbles things from time to time, but most of it is gibberish. Stuff about demons in the water and trying to find some person named Nozomi, but that could just be the fever hallucinations."

Iroh nodded, not surprised that Kan's fever-ridden mind would take him back to the siege of the North where the ocean had become a graveyard of broken ships and bodies. It still seemed so strange that Kan had managed to survive the massacre. Iroh remembered watching the Avatar destroy almost the entire Fire Nation fleet. Even the ships that had managed to avoid being shredded like rice paper and fled the battlefield had not all returned to safe harbours. The sad truth was that out of the thousands of soldiers who had sailed to fight, only a handful had lived to tell the tale. In that, the North had truly become a haunting nightmare for the Fire Nation, but that still didn't explain how Kan had ended up in this small town alone.

"I can't just give up on him," Iroh muttered. "Perhaps there is still a way to save Kan."

Wei did not meet his eyes. "Perhaps."

Iroh repressed a sigh and stared at the cooling cup of tea in his hands. Maybe Wei was right to not be optimistic, but that didn't mean Iroh wouldn't try. He had come this far searching for his nephew, but instead he had found one of his old crew. It wasn't the reunion Iroh had hoped for, but he wasn't about to turn his back on Kan now. Too many young lives had already been cut short for this war. He wasn't about to let another family be deprived of a son if he could help it.

_Forgive me, Nephew,_ Iroh pleaded in his mind. _I will find you, but I have to do this._

There could be no other choice, but a part of him still yearned to keep searching. Zuko was out there somewhere with amnesia, lost and confused. A nagging voice whispered that Iroh was running out of time. The trail of breadcrumbs he had been following was already disappearing from his grasp, leaving him floundering for new leads, but it would have to be enough. Somehow, Iroh had to salvage this mess. Somehow, he had to find his nephew.

But first he had to help Kan.

oOo

Lee removed his mask, rubbing a hand over his clammy face as he stared up at the barn ceiling. The flashbacks were getting worse. They had been ever since he had seen that vision of himself in the swamp. True, this had allowed him to piece together more of his past, but it also left him feeling jittery and weak, like the smallest thing could send him off the edge and cause another breakdown. Most of the time he could barely think straight because of the headaches.

He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. Some of the tightness eased from his chest. Good. He took a moment to do a few more breathing exercises and slipped the mask back on his face. The ostrich horse lost interest in him and went back to eating from a bag of feed. No doubt the cabbage merchant from whom Lee had stolen the animal was still furious with him.

That had not been Lee's proudest moment. Ever since that day, he had felt an odd twinge between his shoulder blades like a knot had formed there that refused to be eased. He could still remember how the merchant had become a human shield in front of the wagon and screamed "NOT MY CABBAGES!" as if the cry were a weapon in itself. Of course, then the merchant had realised that Lee was after the ostrich horse, not the vegetables, and his shrieks had become much more convoluted (though still seemed to be all about how his cabbages would be ruined).

A sigh escaped Lee. Well, there was nothing he could do about the theft now. Even if he had known the crazy merchant's current location, he didn't plan on returning the ostrich horse. He wasn't that noble. Besides, riding was much faster than walking, and he had no desire to traipse across the Earth Kingdom on foot when he was already dealing with so much pressure thanks to his fragmented memory.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, he would leave the village. It had been his intention to pass through without stopping anyway, but he'd been hungry and exhausted and the kid he'd protected in the market—awkwardly enough, also named Lee—had wanted to pay him back for not "ratting him out" to the soldiers. Gansu and Sela, the kid's parents, had clinched the matter by suggesting Lee help fix the barn in exchange for their hospitality. That had seemed a fair trade. Still, Lee knew he couldn't linger.

He closed his eyes and tried to settle into a more comfortable position. For now, he guessed he should just try to get some more rest. Maybe he'd even get lucky and have dreamless sleep. Memories haunted his subconscious almost every time he fell asleep now. Just the thought made his stomach twist. It was true that he desperately wanted to know the truth about himself—about everything—but a small part of him was still hesitant. His past was not pleasant. The more he learnt, the more he realised that he might not like the jigsaw puzzle in its complete form.

_"You don't know what you're asking of me. You don't know what this would mean for you. For all of us."_

Lee rolled over on the straw, trying to block out the Avatar's pleading words. No, he had made the right choice to leave. No matter how painful his past, no matter how much he might hate what he saw in those fragments, it was far better to know the truth than to walk in ignorance. Besides, there had been some good memories. He'd learnt he had an uncle who cared for him, and even though his mother had slipped beyond his reach, he did not regret reliving all of those times she had held him in her arms or helped him feed turtle ducks. In every moment, he had felt how much she loved him.

He was still thinking about his mother and uncle when fatigue took hold, lulling him into the land of dreams. Then the memories hit.

oOo

Night had fallen swiftly. Iroh had stayed to watch over Kan, trying to heal his old crew mate the best he could, but his knowledge of medicine was hardly expansive. He knew how to dress wounds and make herbal concoctions that would cure most poisons, though it was true he had a habit of getting the plants mixed up with anything that looked similar. Yet none of these skills had been of use to Kan. The twenty-four year old was too far gone.

Iroh sighed and placed the cloth he had been using to bathe Kan's forehead back in the bowl of water. He felt emotionally and physically drained. For hours he had sat in the same spot, trying to fix what refused to be fixed while he listened to the hoarse ramblings of a man whose mind was riddled with fever. Sometimes, Kan had started screaming for no reason, terrified of whatever he was seeing in his hallucinations. Other times he fell deathly still and silent, to the point where Iroh had anxiously checked his pulse just to make sure he was still alive. Either way, the final consensus had still been the same.

"I'm sorry, my young friend," Iroh said softly, taking Kan's limp hand in his own. "I wish I could have found you sooner. Maybe then—"

Fingers tightened around his hand, though the grip was still weak. "G-General?"

Iroh's heart quickened as he met Kan's surprisingly lucid gaze, though he felt no relief at the sight. He knew what that meant. "Yes, it's me," he responded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Tears rolled down Kan's cheeks. "I'm so … so glad. Thought you were dead. There were so many bodies and Nozomi"—his voice, already frail, broke on a suppressed sob—"I couldn't … I couldn't find him. He was like my brother and I couldn't ..."

Iroh felt his own cheeks get damp. "I know, Kan. I know. We all lost people that night."

"So many bodies ..."

Iroh gripped his shoulders, sensing that he would lose him if he couldn't keep his attention. "Kan, you need to focus. Look at me."

Glazed amber eyes met his and then it was as if a switch flicked on in Kan's mind. "The others," he gasped, clutching at Iroh's wrist. "Did they make it?"

"Others? I don't know—"

"There was something wrong with the engine. Got stranded. We tried … firebending, but it …" He closed his eyes, as if he were struggling to remember what he wanted to say. "Storm. They came … after the storm when we were still trying to recover. I didn't … didn't see the attack … until too late."

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. "Kan, what are you talking about. What attack? Who was stranded?"

"The others," Kan panted. "We escaped the North on one of the riverboats, but the Water Tribe found us. None of them … benders, but they used mines and were skilled with their weapons. Thought I was … dead when that one guy slashed me in the face. Got knocked into the water. Others still fighting. I couldn't"—he swallowed—"I couldn't get back to them." He closed his eyes as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "I've been alone for so long."

Iroh tried to process everything he had just heard. It sounded like some of his old crew had managed to survive the siege of the North, but then things had gone wrong and they had been attacked by the Water Tribe. Now he could see how Kan had ended up in this town. Kan must have been drifting for weeks, wounded and alone. It was amazing he had made it this far.

"You've been very brave, Kan," Iroh said gently. "Not even the great spirit Agni could have expected anything more from you."

Kan's scarred mouth curved into lopsided smile. "Thank you, General. You were always so … so kind to me, even though I was just a young hothead who no one else wanted. I'll never … regret being reassigned to Prince Zuko's ship."

Iroh swallowed against the lump in his throat. He could see the touch of the otherworldly all over Kan in that moment, as if his body was glowing in blue light. It would not be long before his spirit abandoned its mortal shell.

"Get some rest, Kan," Iroh murmured, smoothing back his hair. "We can talk more in the morning."

"Yes," Kan agreed in his frail voice, still shining with the touch of death. "The morning."

He closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep in seconds. Iroh averted his face, feeling as if he had aged another ten years. It was such a waste. A waste of life and a waste of talent, but there was nothing he could do. He felt the moment when Kan's spirit ceased to exist in the mortal realm. He could only be glad that the young firebender had died peacefully enough, knowing that he was not alone. It was a small consolation.

There was a knock at the door. Wei poked his head in the room, then sighed when he saw Iroh's expression. "I'm sorry. I know you were hoping he would make a recovery."

Iroh shook his head. "No, you were right. Kan was never going to last the night. I'm just glad I was able to be there for him in his final moments."

"What will you do now?"

"Go back to searching for my nephew, I guess, but first I will need to buy some supplies so I can give Kan a proper burial. I can at least give him and his family that much."

Wei hesitated. "I have some incense you can use. I was saving it for when I visit my wife and son's graves, but"—he shrugged and offered a sad smile—"it seems like you're a bit tight on money and need them more than I do right now."

"You don't have to—"

"Please." Wei hed out his hand. "I want to help. Kan, well, he reminded me a little of my boy. I guess that's really why I took him in, sick and yellow-eyed as he was. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't offer what assistance I can now."

Iroh was touched. "Thank you," he said sincerely, sensing that Wei had perceived much more about Kan's heritage than he had realised. "I will be grateful for your assistance."

Wei nodded and then said he had to get back to his customers. The tavern always got rowdier at night. If Iroh was tired, there was a room prepared for him on the second floor. No charge. Iroh tried to protest, but Wei insisted it was fine and then left the room before his offer could be refused again. Iroh stared at the closed door for a moment and found himself smiling, despite the sombreness of the situation. It wasn't every day he met such a genuinely nice, or stubborn, person. Kan had been lucky to stumble across the old musician's path.

Iroh's gaze shifted to the bed where Kan's body still lay as if asleep. Calmly, he pulled the blankets up over the firebender's face. "Goodbye, my young friend. Be at peace."

There was no response, of course, but that didn't matter. Iroh knew that Kan had heard him. When he later left the room, he found himself drifting to the main part of the tavern where people were drinking and laughing or huddled in corners playing dice games and Pai Sho. Iroh didn't know why he didn't just go to bed. He was certainly tired and wasn't really in the mood for company, but then he spotted the liuqin. As if in a trance, he picked up the instrument and strummed his fingers across the strings. Then he started to play, singing softly under his breath.

"Leaves from the vine, falling so slow.  
Like fragile, tiny shells,  
Drifting in the foam.  
Little soldier boy, come marching home.  
Brave soldier boy, comes marching home."

Iroh finished his song with his cheeks damp with tears. Lu Ten, Kan—so many brave soldier boys who would never come marching home. Yet even as he thought of all the lives he had seen slip through his fingers, his thoughts kept returning to the soldier boy who was still out there somewhere, waiting to be found.

_Zuko._

Iroh closed his eyes. He promised himself in that moment that he would do whatever it took to find his nephew—and soon. He could not bear to have another repeat of today: to get that reunion only to realise he was too late. No, he would have to find a new method, a better trail to follow.

There were too many lost soldier boys, but Zuko would not be one of them.


	12. Rebirth

Lee's plan had been to slip away from the farm without anyone noticing—a clean escape, just like he had always done as the Blue Spirit. He should have known Sela would not let him leave so easily, at least not without saying goodbye and giving him a fresh supply of food rations. That was when Gow and his posse had shown up and everything had gone wrong.

Lee gritted his teeth and galloped down the dusty lane on the ostrich horse, hearing the squawks and squeals of the pig-chickens fade the farther he got from the farm. He didn't look back. This was just another goodbye in a long list of goodbyes, but he was surprised to find that he really did hope Gansu managed to bring Sensu back home. It was difficult to forget the lost, heartbroken look in the little boy's eyes.

_"I think you'd really like my brother, Sensu. He used to show me stuff like this all the time."_

Those words had triggered something. A memory. A deep, deep loss. Seeing that boy's family torn apart by war just made it worse.

_"What, you want to learn some swordplay, little cousin?" Lu Ten grinned and handed him a broadsword, then raised his own blade in a duelling stance. "Very well, let's see what you've got. Try to hit me if you can."_

A breath escaped Lee's lips. He urged the ostrich horse to run faster, gritting his teeth as the world flashed by him in a blur of browns and faded greens. It wasn't enough. His head continued to throb and splinter with pain, struggling to process the memories that kept on slamming into his mind one after the other, as if a crack had formed in the mental dam that had been constructed to block his past.

_"Do you really have to go, Lu Ten?"_

_"It's only for a little while. Father and I will have Ba Sing Se conquered in no time."_

_"I guess."_

_Lu Ten smiled and ruffled his hair. "Don't look so down. I'll be back to kick your butt at sword fighting before you know it."_

_"Father says I'm not allowed to practise with swords anymore. M-my bending isn't very good, and he says I should just focus on that because bending is the only thing that matters. He says swords are for people who are too weak to rely on their element."_

_"Do you think I'm weak?"_

_"No, but you're not like me, Lu Ten. Everyone knows you're a talented bender. I do everything that Master Mizuto tells me and I still can't master the basics." He closed his eyes. "I'm a failure."_

_Lu Ten wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "If my father were here, I'm sure he would say something like 'the flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all', but since I'm not my father, I'll just say this. You might be struggling now, but I've seen you fight with a sword, and I know that you have good instincts and far more potential than you realise. One day, you're going to be a powerful bender, Zu—. Perhaps the most powerful of us all." He smiled. "I believe in you. Do you believe in yourself?"_

Lee's grip slipped on the reins. He closed his eyes as bits and pieces of memory continued to splinter through him, whispering of pain, abandonment and loss. It was a moment before he realised that he was shaking.

"Focus," he whispered.

The word had become a mantra of late, grounding him to reality whenever the past sought to snap his mind with its confusing mess of images and emotions. Now more than ever did he need that mantra to work. He sighed, breathing in and out in a calming rhythm, feeling his heartbeat slow. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. That was it, just keep breathing. The panic would fade in a moment, though it would be a while before he stopped feeling so shaken and exposed, as if reliving the memories had scrubbed him raw.

_"Your cousin Lu Ten did not survive the battle."_

Something cold and heavy settled in his stomach and he realised then that he could not hope to control the emotions tangling through him. Not this time. Not when he could feel in every fibre of his being how much his cousin's death had impacted him and his family, as if Lu Ten had been the foundation of their house of cards and it had all fallen apart once the grinning soldier was gone.

Without a second thought, Lee yanked on the ostrich horse's reins and guided the animal to a grassy meadow not far from the village. He didn't trust himself to ride anymore. His mind was a jumble of echoes and shards, and the last thing he needed was to have another breakdown in the middle of the road. Even now he felt like screaming: to beg for it all to stop so that, just once, he could think without feeling like he was being shredded in two, torn between a past he barely understood and a reality he didn't know how to claim.

He stumbled off the ostrich horse and collapsed to his knees, digging his fingers into the grass. His head was still pounding, to the point where he felt like he might be sick. This was all just too much.

"Uncle, where are you?"

The words were choked out of him, as if the boy with the scar—the boy whose name he knew now started with Zu—was somehow reaching up from whatever dark place he had been imprisoned, yearning for the uncle who had watched over and comforted him during his banishment. Lee blinked back tears, because that was his mouth forming those words, his heart aching to feel arms wrap around him and let him breathe in the scent of old spice and tea.

Because he and the boy with the scar were the same person, and it killed him that he didn't know how to connect the last pieces of the puzzle so that he could stop feeling like an outsider sharing in someone else's pain.

He closed his eyes and pressed his face against his knees, mask and all. In his mind, he could see his uncle leaning over him, telling him that everything was going to be alright. Except it wasn't alright. Nothing was alright. He was lost and confused and alone, and he didn't know he if he could do this by himself anymore. It was just so damn hard.

_"I believe in you. Do you believe in yourself?"_

He shuddered and dug his fingers deeper into the grass, trying to keep it together even as the memories and emotions threatened to rip the seams of his spirit apart. He didn't know how long he remained like that, huddled in a ball and trying to breathe through the agony and confusion. Then he heard the sound of wagon wheels coming towards him.

He got to his feet, already reaching for his swords. His hand stilled when he saw Sela jump down from the wagon and run towards him. She begged him with tears glistening on her cheeks to save her son. Apparently, Gow had returned with his thugs after Gansu had left and taken the kid. The little idiot had tried to fight Gow.

Sela covered her face with her hands. "I know we barely know you, but—"

Lee stepped forward, his eyes burning like golden coals behind the cover of his mask. "I'll get your son back."

There would be no more sons lost today. No more families torn apart. He would not allow it.

oOo

A crowd had gathered in the main square, lured like flies to rotting meat to watch the spectacle unfold. Fear and fascination; it was in every face, every glance. None of the villagers really wanted the little boy tied to the post to get hurt, but they still couldn't help but watch. Lee had not come here to watch, though. He had come here because he was angry.

It didn't take him long to deal with three of the thugs. Gow was not so easy.

"Behind you!" the kid screamed.

Breathing hard, Lee swung around and raised his swords to stop a rock from smashing him in the head, only to find himself facing a dozen more of the projectiles. Too many. Too fast. Blood pounded in his ears as chunks of earth smashed against his swords, pushing him back in graceless, staggering steps. His arms ached and sweat dampened his forehead and neck. Even worse, his mind was beginning to flicker with memories again, disrupting his focus so that sometimes he was seeing his father standing before him while other times it was a girl with amber eyes, laughing as lightning crackled in blue flashes from her fingertips.

_"You'll never catch up."_

Gow slammed his hammers into the ground, sending a shockwave of power rippling through the earth. Lee's eyes widened and he brought his swords up to defend, but it was too late. A massive chunk of rock erupted from the earth and slammed into his chest, knocking all the breath from his lungs. He gasped for air that would not come, even as the world tilted and blurred in a disorientating rush before coming into focus as his head struck the dusty earth. His mask clattered to the ground beside him, grinning up at the sky through hollow eyes.

Dizzily, he tried to get back to his feet, but it was no use. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. There was only the pain in his chest and the heavy touch of darkness pressing down on his eyelids, which was becoming more difficult to resist with every second that passed. It was a sickening realisation, because he knew what was going to happen next, just as surely as he had known that his father would punish him with fire all those years ago.

He was going to lose.

"Get up!"

He could hear the murmurs of the crowd, hear the little boy pleading for his hero to come save the day. But Lee didn't think that he could. He didn't even know why he should keep trying, because he knew that he wasn't a hero. He was just a failure. He couldn't even protect himself.

_"That's who you are, Zu—. Someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard."_

A shuddery breath escaped his lips. "Mum?" he whispered.

Suddenly, he was back in the room with the crimson drapes, sleepy and disorientated as his mother pulled him into her arms.

_"Remember this, Zu—. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."_

_"Never forget who you are."_

Something seemed to click in his mind. He felt a weight leave, or perhaps it was more of a gate opening. Either way a rush of energy surged through his body, his veins, building and building until it was so powerful that he could barely contain it. Until his hands were trembling and every fibre of his being was begging for release. His eyes snapped open and he screamed, twisting back to his feet as fire erupted from his palms and flowed in streams of burning hot energy around him, knocking Gow back with one of the blasts.

Breathing heavily, he stalked towards Gow, fire flickering around him and his eyes burning with rage. Gow scrambled back to his feet and tried to take up a bending stance, but he was having none of that. He charged, channelling his element so that balls of hot energy shot forth as he moved in a fiery dance with his blades, weaving fire around him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. One of the fireballs struck Gow in the chest. The man was thrown back into one of the buildings and brought half of the rotting wood down on him from the impact. A deadly hush settled over the square as he stood over Gow, his swords rippling with fire.

"Who—who are you?" Gow asked weakly.

"My name is Zuko."

Then he drove the hilt of his blade into the man's face, knocking him out cold. The silence that followed was almost tangible, as if the air was thick with unspoken words. Zuko could sense that every person in the crowd was staring at him, judging him. It was like Fei's town all over again, only this felt a hundred times worse. This time he could almost taste the fear and hostility.

He sheathed his swords and crouched beside Gow. The murmurs of the crowd were beginning to pick up now, labelling him with words that would have made him flinch had he still been that lost boy wearing a mask. But Zuko wasn't lost. He knew exactly who he was, and he didn't care if they called him a firebender or a monster. Both were true in a sense. He was a firebender, and to them he probably did look like a monster. It didn't matter that he had just protected one of their own; he was the enemy and they were just ignorant, Earth Kingdom villagers. Or at least that was what he told himself.

Finally, Zuko spotted the dagger he had been looking for strapped to Gow's belt. He removed the knife and stood up, turning to face the kid he had come to rescue. Sela was busy untying her son from the pole, but Lee didn't look particularly relieved. His eyes were wide and … fearful? Angry?

That did make Zuko pause, but he shrugged off his hesitance and closed the distance between them. Suddenly, Sela was standing in front of her son like a shield.

"Not a step closer," she said in a cold voice.

Zuko ignored the flicker of hurt that stabbed through him. Instead, he knelt before them and offered the dagger to Lee. "It's yours now. You should have it."

"No!" Lee cried, tears glinting in his eyes. "I hate you!"

And he meant it. Zuko could sense that much, even as the words struck him like a blow to the chest. This boy had worshipped him like a hero; now he thought the firebender a monster just like everyone else.

Zuko watched as mother and son walked away without a second glance, shutting him out of their lives as easily as they had welcomed him. Hurt and shock held him frozen for a moment, but then he just closed his eyes in resignation. There was no point getting frustrated or upset. This was how it had always been, how it was meant to be.

Wasn't it?

He got to his feet and stared around at the crowd of hostile and frightened faces. No one dared to attack him, but it was obvious he wasn't welcome anymore either. Grimly, he walked over to pick up the Blue Spirit mask from the ground and clambered on his ostrich horse. Let them think what they liked. It wasn't as if he had been planning on staying in this village. It wasn't as if he really cared. Much. Besides, he had much more important things to worry about.

_"Go on and heal yourself, Zuzu. Let me see your power."_

His eyes narrowed. It was true that his memories were still a bit hazy, but he had learnt enough. He knew that he was the son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai, which also made him the heir to the Fire Nation throne. He knew that his uncle was the Dragon of the West and that they had been separated after the siege of the North when he had got captured by the Northern Water Tribe. He knew that he was supposed to be capturing the Avatar and that his sister, Azula, was a firebending prodigy who always lied and had almost killed him with lightning.

And he also knew that he was really, really angry.

Zuko slipped the mask back over his face and nudged the ostrich horse into action, forcing a path through the crowd of wary villagers until he was just a dark outline against a sky painted in the colours of fire. He didn't once look back.

"I'm coming for you, Azula," he muttered under his breath. "I will make you pay."

oOo

The moon was especially bright that night. Aang hummed a little under his breath as he used airbending to set up the tent for the campsite, despite the fact that all he really wanted to do was snuggle up in Appa's fur and snore the rest of the night away. They had been travelling for hours, determined to put as much ground between them as possible from Gaoling. Still, Aang did not begrudge the lack of sleep. Not when things were finally beginning to look up for him.

"I guess we'll have to thank old Blue Face when we next see him," Sokka observed, setting the firewood he had collected in a pattern on the ground. "He was right that we'd have better luck finding an earthbending teacher for you in Gaoling."

Both boys turned to look at the newest addition to the group, who was reclining on a rock bed she had probably created with her bending and picking her nose. Aang grinned, not at all put off by her less than lady-like behaviour, but his smile faded a second later as he thought about Sokka's words and remembered that the siblings still had no idea that the Blue Spirit was Zuko. He found himself staring at his feet, twiddling his thumbs in a slow circle.

"Y-yeah," he said uncomfortably. "We'll have to thank him."

Katara came out from the trees with a pot in her hands. "I've got the water."

Her gaze flickered to Toph and a slight crease formed on her brow. Aang didn't know what that was about, but he didn't get the chance to ask. Katara was already speaking again.

"You know, now that you've got a teacher to help you master earthbending, I was thinking that maybe we could try find Lee." She placed the pot on the ground and her voice softened. "I'm really worried about him. He seemed so fragile after that weird fit thing he had in Omashu. I don't like the idea of him travelling alone. What if he blacks out again and there's no one around to help him?"

"I'm sure he's fine, Katara," Sokka said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Besides, he wouldn't have left if he wanted to keep travelling with us. I think he's just a loner by nature."

"You're only saying that because you didn't like that he kept questioning your authority as the leader!" she retorted.

"A-ha!" Sokka exclaimed, pointing his finger at her. "So you admit I'm the leader."

Katara rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Sokka. I'm really worried about him. I didn't want to push it earlier because I knew we had to help Aang find an earthbending teacher, but now we have Toph—"

"'Sup," Toph said with a lazy wave, and then flicked a piece of snot that had been stuck to her finger off into the night.

Katara scrunched her nose in distaste, then stared back at her brother. "Come on, Sokka, you saw how Lee was in the swamp. Aren't you worried at all?" Her gaze shifted to Aang. "You agree with me, right?"

Aang flinched. His heart was beating uncomfortably against his ribs and he could feel moisture gathering on his palms. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now, not with Katara staring at him like that. Not when he was already so full of shame and regret. She had no idea, no idea at all that the boy she was so worried about was also the one she called her enemy.

Suddenly, he couldn't take it anymore. The weight of all his lies and omissions was getting to be too much, like a rock he was constantly carrying around his neck. It hurt, and he knew he would not be able to breathe properly until he just told the truth.

"Guys, there's something I need to tell you," he said in a strained voice. "It's about Lee."

Katara perked up immediately. Even Toph deigned to sit up straighter.

"What about Lee?" Katara demanded.

"He's ... I mean, I've kind of been, um, well ..." Aang sighed in frustration and clutched at his head. Why was this so difficult?

Sokka stepped forward. "What is it, Aang? You can tell us."

Aang's shoulders slumped and his voice dropped to the barest whisper. "I know who he really is. I've always known."

There was a pause as both siblings digested this information.

"Well, I kind of figured that," Sokka admitted with a shrug. "I mean, Lee did have that little outburst in the swamp and accused you of keeping the truth from him, and you did admit that you hadn't been entirely honest. It made sense that you probably knew more than you were letting on."

Aang swallowed. "Right."

"But understand this," Sokka continued in a grim voice. "I don't like that you lied to us. Katara and I are your friends, and I thought that you would know better than to do that after what happened with the map." He shook his head. "The only reason I didn't confront you earlier is because I hoped you would choose to be honest with us yourself."

"I know. I'm really sorry. I just—I just panicked, I guess."

"Why?" Katara asked in a hurt voice. "Why would you keep this from us? You've been lying to me right from the beginning, Aang, and I want to know why!"

"Because Lee is really Zuko!" he blurted out in a rush, and then winced.

There was a long and painful silence. Aang risked a glance at his friends and saw that both looked pale. Katara was gripping her necklace as if her life depended on it, shaking her head in denial, while Sokka just stood there with glassy eyes as if he had been stuffed.

"Well, that was unexpected," Sokka said, finding his voice again. "Answers a few questions I've been having, but still unexpected."

Katara just shook her head. "No," she muttered. "No, that can't be right. Lee is a waterbender. He healed you and protected you. He just can't be that, that—"

"Katara," Aang said gently, "it's true. I saw his face with my own eyes after he rescued me from Pohuai Stronghold. The Blue Spirit is and always has been Zuko. That's why I didn't want to tell you guys. I—"

She made a choked sound and turned the other way. "Don't. Just don't. I don't want to hear your excuses."

He reached out an imploring hand. "Katara—"

"No! I can't believe you lied to us about this!" She spun back to face him. "You told me you never got to see his face! You told me that you only knew him as the Blue Spirit, and all this time you knew it was really Zuko under the mask!" Her voice broke a little. "How could you, Aang? Didn't you consider at all how this would make me—_us_ feel?"

"Don't you see, Katara?" He met her gaze with sad eyes. "That's why I couldn't bring myself to tell you earlier. I knew how you both felt about Zuko."

"So you let us think he was someone else? Let us invite him into our group and share our tent after all that he has done?" She took a step forward, her eyes bright with betrayal and anger. "Have you forgotten that he chased us all over the world because he wanted to capture you?"

"What was I supposed to do? How could I explain that it was Zuko who had healed me? You both hated him so much. You would have never listened. And he made me promise not to tell anyone about his Blue Spirit identity and"—Aang swallowed, remembering that awful night when he had thought Zuko had died—"and then I didn't know what had happened to him. I kept hearing rumours that he had drowned, but no one could give me any clear answers. Then we ran into him again in Omashu and I was so scared that I was going to lose him again."

"So you lied," Sokka said in a resigned voice, folding his arms across his chest.

Aang nodded. "I didn't mean for it to get this out of hand. I just didn't know what to do. Zuko had no idea who he was, let alone who we were. I couldn't just leave him like that. I didn't think you would let him stay if you knew his real identity, and I thought—I thought I could help him. I thought I could fix the rift I had created between us." A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "But I just made things worse. I'm sorry."

Katara bit her lip and looked the other way. "I believe you that you weren't trying to hurt us by keeping Zuko's identity a secret, but this is so much to take in." She turned her back to him. "I'm sorry, Aang. I'm going to need some time."

Something cold settled in his stomach. "Wait, Katara—"

"Let her go," Sokka said, putting his hand on Aang's shoulder. "She's just upset because she thought 'Lee' was a waterbender like her. She really cared about him, you know, and now she's suddenly found out that he's just that same angry jerk who attacked our village and chased us all over the world. You can understand why it would be a little difficult for her."

A crease formed on Aang's brow. "I had no idea she cared that much."

"My sister can't help but care. You saw what she was like with Haru: any person who needs her help, she immediately flocks to them like a mother turtle-duck and will do anything in her power to ensure their comfort and happiness. Heck, she even got herself imprisoned for Haru," he added with an odd mixture of pride and exasperation. "That's just the way she is, but helping Zuko wasn't something she counted on." He shrugged. "My guess is that she doesn't know what to think. She's just confused and hurt, but she'll calm down."

Aang glanced up at him. "And what do you think?"

A slow smile spread across Sokka's face. "Honestly, I just wish I'd known earlier that we'd had Zuko travelling with us. Think of all the fun I could have had with his amnesia."

Aang frowned in disapproval. "You know, he's really not as bad as you guys think."

Sokka's smile faded. "Yeah, I know. I'll admit that 'Lee' was kind of cool. Still doesn't change anything, though, does it? I mean, once Zuko gets his memory back he'll just go back to being an angry jerk who wants to capture you."

"You don't know that."

Sokka said nothing. It was obvious that he thought Aang was indulging in wishful thinking, but they hadn't been there when Zuko had fought with him against Zhao. They hadn't seen Zuko's vulnerability when he had admitted in an icy cave that he just wanted to go home. It didn't matter that Zuko had later told Aang that he wanted nothing to do with him. It didn't matter that, through Aang's own cowardice and reluctance to be honest with his friends, he had managed to drive Zuko away yet again.

Because Zuko was not a bad person, and in that Aang still had hope.

Toph stood up from her rock bed and walked towards them. "So, is anyone going to tell me who this Zuko guy is that has everyone so worked up?"

Sokka waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Oh, just the Prince of the Fire Nation. He lost his memories and ended up travelling with us for a while, but now we don't know where he is."

Toph considered that for a moment. "Fair enough. Well, I'm going to sleep." She turned around and headed back to her make-shift bed, then raised her hands to the air in a sharp gesture to form a pyramid of rocks around her like a tent. "Goodnight."

And with that she raised her hand one more time, closing the "door" so that Aang and Sokka just found themselves staring at a triangular mound of rocks. Aang blinked and shared a look with Sokka, who just shrugged. Toph was certainly her own person.

"You know, I think she has the right idea," Sokka said after a moment, smothering a yawn. "We should get some sleep."

"What about Katara?"

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about it."

"But—"

Sokka clapped him on the shoulder. "Trust me, there are times when a girl needs her space and you would be wise to give it to her. Katara will come back when she's ready."

Aang frowned. "If you say so. I just hope she's not too angry. I really didn't mean to hurt her."

A sigh escaped Sokka's lips. "Just get some sleep, Aang."

Aang tried to ignore the sinking sensation in his stomach. "Right," he said, fidgeting with his hands. "Goodnight, Sokka."

He shuffled over to where Appa was sleeping and curled up against the bison, not wanting to sleep in the tent with the others tonight. He wasn't always the most perceptive person, but he got the sense that Sokka was a lot more annoyed with him than he was letting on. Maybe it wasn't just girls who needed their space.

Aang huddled more into a ball, trying not to let his friends' censure and disappointment bring him down too much. He couldn't blame them for being upset, and it was a relief to not have to worry about keeping the secret any longer. All things considered, the confession could have gone a lot worse. It still made him sad, though.

Momo made a chirruping sound and swooped down from Appa's head to snuggle up beside him. Perhaps Momo could sense his unhappiness. It was certainly a comfort to stroke the lemur's fur and have someone around who genuinely wanted to be close to him. Aang smiled and scratched his furry friend behind the ears, then closed his eyes with a sigh. Well, he supposed only time would heal the wounds he had created with his lies. It wouldn't be the first time.

_I'm sorry, everyone._

Katara, Sokka, Zuko—they had all been hurt by him. He promised himself then and there that he would not lie to his friends again. No matter how justified, no matter how many excuses he came up with, he would always be honest with them. He just hoped he got the chance to earn Zuko's forgiveness as well.

_"I don't want you to hate me."_

Aang sighed and buried his face under his arms, blocking out the silver glow of the moon. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

oOo

The tavern was rowdy. Iroh sipped his drink, still smelling of incense and dirt from the funeral rites he and Wei had performed earlier that day. He did not look up when the swivelling doors to the establishment were pushed open, signalling that yet another person had come to join the crowd of revellers for the night. He did, however, pause when a shadow blocked his light, forming the silhouette of what looked like a woman.

"Well, well," a low and rather husky voice observed, "if it isn't Uncle Lazy."

Iroh's breath caught and he turned in his chair to meet a pair of familiar brown eyes. "June."

* * *

Yes, I totally stole a _Mulan_ quote.


	13. Reunion

"Well?" June said brusquely. "Where is the item with Prince Pouty's scent?"

Iroh reached inside his tunic and brought out a small case made of metal. He released the latch, brushing aside the folded portrait of Lu Ten that was nestled within, and pulled out a single lock of black hair. "Will this work?"

June wordlessly took the lock of hair from him and held it up to Nyla's nose. The shirshu sniffed at the strands, then started sniffing even more frantically at the air, moving in different directions as it tried to pick out traces of Zuko's scent and the path for them to follow. It seemed to take much longer than when the shirshu had been tracking the waterbender girl. Iroh started to feel worried. What if his plan didn't work?

Suddenly, Nyla made a keening sound and strained towards the plains in the distance, as if she were barely resisting the urge to bolt and leave her master behind.

"She's got the scent," June observed, handing him back the lock of hair. "It's faint, but she's definitely found him. Come on!"

Iroh didn't need telling twice and clambered up behind June on the shirshu. They were off with a flick of a whip, darting past open-mouthed townsfolk and pounding along the road in a blur of dust. A heavy weight seemed to lift from Iroh's shoulders. It seemed the spirit of luck was on his side. Impulse had made him cut that lock of hair the night the ship had exploded and Iroh had found his nephew struggling for life. Now, he could only be grateful that he had listened to that need to carry a reminder of Zuko close to his heart.

_Hold on, Nephew_, he prayed. _Just hold on. I'm on my way._

oOo

Night had fallen. Zuko knelt beside a shrub, holding a clump of white fur in his hand while the other cradled a ball of fire for light. The soft glow of the flames distorted the paint on his mask, giving him a ghoulish appearance. His ostrich horse made a nervous sound. He cast it an impatient glance. "What's the matter with you?"

The ostrich horse made another muffled squawk and scratched at the earth with its talons, clearly uneasy. Zuko frowned and stood up, extinguishing his flames so that only the moon lit the forest path. His senses, normally so alert, suddenly prickled to life. Something was out there.

Quietly, he moved to the ostrich horse and stroked its muzzle in a soothing caress, calming it so that it would not make a sound. Once he was satisfied, he unsheathed his blades and started heading deeper into the forest, letting his instincts guide him rather than his eyes. As the Blue Spirit, he had learnt to see with his ears, his nose, even the quickening beat of his heart. He surrendered himself to his senses and slowly, bit by bit, a map of the forest began to form in his mind. A snap of a branch, a rustle of leaves. He spun around on panther-fox's feet and moved stealthily towards the noise.

"I can't believe I'm spending my night looking for bits of white fur," a gruff voice said. "It's nearly midnight, for spirit's sake. We should be sleeping right now."

"Nothing is more important than capturing the Avatar," a second male responded. "Now shut up and keep looking."

"What, you're really taking this mission to heart?"

"It's not about what I think, it's about what the princess thinks, and she'll have both our heads if we don't do our job properly. Now keep searching."

Zuko tightened his grip on the clump of fur balled in his fist. His sister must be closer than he'd thought if her soldiers were stationed in the area. A part of him was frustrated. He had not wanted to follow the Avatar. In fact, as soon as he had recognised the fur, he had decided to head in the opposite direction (because he could still see that stupid kid's smile when he closed his eyes, and he could still hear the pain in the Avatar's voice, begging Zuko not to hate him). Confusion and more confusion, that was all the Avatar had ever brought him, and right now Zuko wanted none of it. He didn't want to see the Avatar's face again.

But Azula was hunting Aang, and Zuko could not, _would_ not, forgive Azula for trying to kill him. He needed to know. He needed to know why she had deemed him as worthless; why she thought she could just dispose of him at will, as if he were not her brother but a pawn that had lost its use. Mostly, he just wanted to make her suffer. Echoes of feelings and images still swirled inside him like a storm, tangling and crashing and chipping away at his heart. The cold truth was that regaining his identity hadn't made him feel whole. He just felt poisoned, like little bits of him had been eaten away and all he was left with was this consuming rage.

This need to wound as he had been wounded.

Zuko gritted his teeth and headed back towards his ostrich horse. It would be stupid to attack her now. He was just one bender and she had a whole troop of soldiers at her command. He would be overwhelmed in seconds. No, he needed to be smart about this and come up with a plan. Azula was cunning and precise, always one step ahead of her prey. One sniff of his presence and he would lose his chance to bring her down.

But then right now he wasn't her target.

Zuko paused and stared at the clump of fur in his hand. It would be risky. So many things could go wrong if he made even one miscalculation, but what choice did he have? He was a luckless, banished prince who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Besides, if there was one thing he was good at, it was tracking without being seen until he wanted to make his presence known. He just had to wait until Azula isolated herself from the others, and he knew she would. There was no way she would let anyone else bring down the Avatar. She would want that glory for herself—her one and only weakness. Zuko's eyes narrowed behind the slits of his mask. That would be his chance to strike.

He got on the ostrich horse and slinked off into the night, blending into the darkness as if he were made of nothing but shadow. Not far from him, a huge tank rumbled to life and charged towards the mountains with demon-like speed. The clumps of white fur had been found and the hunt started anew.

oOo

"That thing is back!"

Toph's cry had them all sitting up with a snap, glancing blearily around the clearing. Katara clutched her waterskin, her mouth dry and her heart pounding. She had still been brooding over Aang's confession when Sokka had come to find her, telling her that they needed to go because something big was heading their way. It was the last thing she had wanted to do at the time, for she had no desire to be near Aang, but she had seen the urgency in her brother's eyes and had put aside her bitterness for the sake of self-preservation. Hours had passed since that conversation and the weird tank thing was still chasing them. By the time they learnt that their pursuers were the three "dangerous ladies" from Omashu, Katara was fuming and exhausted.

She gritted her teeth as she picked herself up from the ground, bruised after Appa had passed out on them mid-air. "This is all your fault!" she snapped, glaring at Aang.

"My fault?" he said in surprise.

"You were the one who insisted on going into Omashu to find King Bumi, even though we told you it was dangerous." Her eyes hardened. "Those girls wouldn't be chasing us right now if you had just listened!"

"Woah, woah!" Sokka put a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down, Sis. You know that's not fair on Aang. He didn't know this would happen. Besides, we were able to help the residents escape from the control of the Fire Nation. That has to be a good thing, right?"

She bit her lip and looked the other way, frustrated and feeling the mad urge to scream. Maybe Sokka was right. Maybe she was being too hard on Aang, but it just made her so angry. He had lied to her. He had lied to her about _so much_, and then there were all the times he had got them into dangerous situations with his reckless, carefree behaviour. It was true that in her heart she knew that Aang had never meant for anyone to get hurt, but then that was the problem. He didn't think. He didn't listen. He just acted and they were the ones who always got burnt for it. Sometimes literally.

"Katara?"

Aang's small voice pierced her heart. She closed her eyes, refusing to look at the wounded expression she knew she would see on his face, just like a kicked polar bear-dog puppy.

"I'm sorry," he continued, still in that subdued voice. "I ... I didn't know those girls would chase us this far. I—"

"It shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise," Katara said waspishly, "considering their ringleader is Zuko's sister. That whole family seems determined to capture you."

Aang flinched. Good. So he should feel bad. Yet even as the thought popped into her mind, another prodded at her conscience, twisting her insides with guilt for making him look so downcast. It wasn't fair that she was taking her frustration out on Aang—an unbiased part of her knew that—but the words kept spilling from her mouth and that horrible, waspish tone would not leave her voice.

"Why don't you go befriend the princess as well?" she suggested, and gave a cold laugh. "That's what you do, right? Befriend the people who want to hurt you and lie to those who actually care about you."

Aang opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. Instead, he just stared hard at the ground, his hands trembling.

"Oh, put a rock in it, Sugar Queen," Toph said bluntly. "He doesn't need a lecture from you, and from what I've seen you're not so perfect yourself."

Katara turned on Toph, her eyes flashing. "What would you know? You've barely been with us for two days, and if anyone here has no right to judge, it's you. This whole night you haven't lifted a finger to help us set up camp or help with any of the chores! You're just a selfish little brat!"

Toph's milky green eyes narrowed. "Hey, I carry my own weight!" she retorted, thumping a hand against her chest. "And if we're to talk of brats, I'm looking at one right now."

Katara took a step forward. "Why you—"

"Bring it on!" Toph matched her step for step so that the two girls were inches apart.

Sokka's hands suddenly came up between them, breaking the stand-off. "Ladies, ladies, let's just calm down, okay?"

"I'm perfectly calm!" Katara screeched.

But then that wasn't true. She was on edge and her insides were bubbling with frustration. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Why was she being so horrible? Why couldn't she just stop the awful words from spilling out of her mouth? Aang still looked like he had been kicked in the chest, and now Toph and Sokka were turning against her. Suddenly, all the aggressiveness seemed to vanish from her body, leaving her drained and riddled with guilt. "Just leave me alone!" she yelled, and ran off in the opposite direction.

"Katara, wait!"

She could hear her brother calling, but she just quickened her pace. She couldn't face them right now. Not like this. Not when she felt so guilty and bitter and confused. So instead she kept running until the sun had established itself in the sky and she could hear the birds calling to each other. It wasn't until much later that she realised she was lost and had no idea how to get back to the camp.

Katara cursed under her breath and sat down on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. She felt miserable and alone, and she knew she only had herself to blame. After all, no one had told her to run away or say those horrible things to her friends. Her bottom lip trembled and a few tears splashed her cheeks, but she didn't bother to wipe them away.

"I'm such an idiot," she muttered.

Because the problem was not that Aang had lied or that Toph wasn't helping out with the chores. It was _her_. She didn't know how to forgive. She wished that she knew how to forget. If she could just be the better person, she wouldn't have to feel so wretched. She wouldn't have to feel so betrayed by a truth that was never hers to dictate, as if Aang's confession was a poisoned dart designed specifically to hurt her. The Blue Spirit was actually Zuko. The masked boy she had thought her friend was a firebender.

Just like that man.

Her fingers closed around the blue pendant that hung from her throat. She could feel the grooves of the carved Water Tribe patterns pressing into her palm, whispering of a woman with dark hair and blue eyes, of snow and ash and blood splattered on a hut floor. A faint tremor travelled down Katara's spine and more tears slipped free. Somehow, it always came back to her mother.

_"Mum, I'm scared."_

_"Go find your dad, sweetie. I'll handle this."_

Katara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block everything out—the memories, the confusion, the bitterness. She didn't know how long she sat like that, huddled on the ground like a child. Then a shadow passed over her, shifting the light that danced in blurry shades of orange behind her closed eyelids. She opened her eyes and found herself confronting Appa's big furry face.

The bison rumbled in greeting and gave her a wet, slobbery lick to her cheek.

"Found her!" Sokka exclaimed from his perch on Appa's head.

She blinked, absently rubbing her cheek and wondering who her brother was talking to since there was no sight of Aang or even Momo. This puzzle was answered as Toph appeared from within the trees, blowing her fringe out of her face and carrying Momo on her shoulder.

"Told you she'd be here," Toph said smugly, then pointed a finger in Katara's general direction. "Do me a favour, Sweetness: next time you decide to go running off, do it when we're not being hunted by a bunch of freaks on lizards."

Katara ignored the insult underlying this speech and instead asked the question that had been bothering her. "How did you find me?"

Toph stamped one foot by way of explanation and smiled. Ah. Earthbending sensing, or whatever it was that Toph did with her grubby feet.

"Hey, can we talk about this later?" Sokka said. "We need to get out of here. Now."

"What's going on?" Katara asked, standing up.

Sokka told her about how they discovered, thanks to Toph, that the reason the girls had been able to chase them for so long was because Appa's fur was shedding and leaving a trail. They had washed Appa to get rid of most of the moulting white clumps, which Aang had then collected and was going to use to lead their pursuers off in a different path. Meanwhile, Sokka, Toph, and Katara would make their escape and wait for Aang to join them later.

"But there's no way he can take on all three of those girls in his current state!" Katara exclaimed, conscious of the way her stomach plummeted at just the thought.

Sokka sighed. "It's a risk, but this is the best plan we've got. Appa has had it. He needs to rest, and the only way he's going to get that is if we shake those crazy girls off our trail."

Katara chewed on her bottom lip. She supposed Sokka was right—in fact, judging by the snuffling sounds coming from the bison, Appa had just fallen asleep—but still. What was Aang thinking going off alone? He might be the Avatar, not to mention currently in her black books, but he was still just a kid who needed sleep to function like anyone else. He was still her friend.

"We have to help him!" she insisted, looking pleadingly up at Sokka.

"I think we might need to focus on helping ourselves first," Toph said, tensing and pointing towards the trees. "Something is coming, and fast."

Katara and Sokka exchanged a wary glance, but there was no time to speculate. A rustling came from within the bushes, getting louder and louder. Katara uncorked her waterskin and took up a fighting stance, breathing slowly to focus her bending. Beside her, Sokka jumped off Appa and pulled out his boomerang and club. Toph just grinned, blank eyes gazing unseeingly at the trees. All of them were ready. All of them waited. A soft inhale, a fluttered heartbeat, and then two dark shapes emerged from the wall of trees, getting larger and more defined as the creatures—no, the girls—got closer. Momo took off with a screech, flying to safety up in the branches above.

"Miss me?" the girl in pink said, leaping off the lizard-like creature she had been riding.

"Unlikely!" Sokka retorted, and rushed to meet her in combat.

Katara had no time to be worried for her brother. A flurry of knives came speeding towards her. She swung her hand out to form a wall of ice, but a giant upheaval of rock got there first, stopping the sharp projectiles in their tracks. "Thanks," she muttered, casting a brief look of gratitude at Toph.

"Don't mention it."

It was a small offering—an unspoken apology from both—but their bonding moment was cut short as Knife Girl released the mechanisms hidden beneath her sleeves, firing darts at them like tiny storms of metal. Toph stamped her foot into the ground, creating another wall to block the attack while Katara moved her arms in sharp, fluid motions, responding with her own projectiles of ice. Time for some payback.

Knife Girl's eyes narrowed a fraction and she threw herself forward, sliding on her side beneath the flurry, then sprung up to her feet with two shurikens in hand. Katara and Toph both dodged the star-pointed weapons, though Katara just barely missed having her cheek grazed with the kiss of metal. Damn, this girl was good. The Fire Nation warrior was like a splash of red silk that could move with unnerving speed, all hidden sharpness and razor blade. It was impossible to get in a hit, especially when combined with the pink-clad acrobat who kept somersaulting close, threatening to incapacitate anyone who got near with her lightning-fast punches.

Dimly, Katara heard Sokka gasp in pain, but she didn't have time to check if he was okay. It was all she could do to keep Knife Girl from sticking her with one of those pointy weapons.

"That's it!" Toph exclaimed, digging her feet into the ground. "I'm bringing you down!"

Or at least she would have had the girl in pink not chosen that moment to somersault behind Toph and punch her along both arms and down her spine with calculated precision.

"No!" Katara yelled.

Toph went limp, milky eyes widening in horror, then collapsed to the ground not far from Sokka's prostrate form. Katara growled and got her water whips ready, determined to throw everything she had at her enemies, but it was too late. A series of stiletto knives pierced through her clothes, pinning her against one of the thick tree trunks.

"Well, that was disappointing," Knife Girl observed dryly, lowering her arm. "Oh well, victory is boring."

"What should we do with them, Mai?" the girl in pink asked. "It doesn't look like the Avatar is here."

Mai stared at the captives, meeting Katara's glare for a moment. There was no interest in those tawny eyes, only the bored resignation of a girl who had done her part and didn't care what happened next. "Azula won't want us to let them go," she said flatly.

"Are you sure about that?" Sokka questioned in a muffled voice. His face was mushed into the ground from where he had fallen paralysed. "I mean, if Crazy Blue Flames is only after Aang, then what good are we?"

Mai ignored his comment and faced her back to them. "You brought the rope, right?"

Ty Lee tapped a finger to her chin. "Um, yip."

"Then tie them up. We'll take them back to camp for questioning."

"Right!" Ty Lee said, clapping her hands together as if this was all a fun game.

She wandered over to the lizard creature and started rummaging in the saddle pack, no doubt looking for rope. Katara just glared at Mai, who was now collecting her weapons from the ground and slotting them back into the contraptions fastened to her forearms. Not to mention ignoring her "captives" completely. Anger bubbled within Katara. Just who did this girl think she was? Didn't she care about anything at all?

"Hey!" Katara called, narrowing her eyes. "You know, we were the ones who took care of your little brother back in Omashu. Aang even made sure he got back to your parents safely after you and your friends tried to kill us."

Mai stiffened and her hands balled into fists, then quickly flexed. The action was so imperceptible that Katara might have missed it had she not been watching the other girl so closely, but there had definitely been a reaction. It seemed that Katara had touched a nerve.

"What's your point?" Mai said blandly, turning to face her.

Katara lifted her chin. "You should be thanking us, not trying to capture us."

"That's right!" Sokka chimed in, still with his face pressed against the dirt. "We helped your family out! It's only fair you let us go in return."

Mai tucked a shuriken inside her robe. "Fair?" she repeated almost pityingly. "I hate to break it to you, but the world isn't fair. It's just a farce that follows the whims of the powerful regardless of what's right or wrong, let alone your own feelings." Her eyes hardened. "There's no such thing as fairness. Better just accept it now."

Ty Lee paused in her rummaging and stared at her friend with wide eyes, even a little sadness. "Mai ..."

Mai's lips tightened into a thin line and she turned the other way. "Just tie them up. Oh, and make sure they don't go anywhere," she added with all the bored apathy only she could pull off. "I don't feel like being in Azula's bad books again."

"Where are you going?" Ty Lee asked, tilting her head to the side like a confused bird.

"Back to camp." Mai climbed gracefully on top of her lizard-like mount. "I'll organise the tank to come pick you up, along with our"—she cast a distasteful look at the incapacitated group—"new additions."

Ty Lee pouted. "Leave me with guard duty." Her expression brightened and she leaned forward, pointing her finger at her friend. "Fine, but make sure you save me some custard buns, okay?"

"I won't make any promises."

"Mai!" Ty Lee whined, pouting even more.

"I'm kidding. I'll save you a custard bun, now stop whingeing and go tie them up before the paralysis wears off."

Ty Lee jumped as if she had just remembered the presence of her immobile audience. "Oh, right."

Katara frowned as she watched the girl named Mai race off into the trees. That was one weird friendship. Soon, it was just the four of them left. (Appa didn't count, since he was still snoring by the tree, and she had no idea where Momo had gone.)

Ty Lee beamed as she approached the trio, clutching a long coil of rope in her hand. "I'm really sorry to do this," she said, and she actually sounded sincere, "but orders are—"

"Raaagghhhh!"

Ty Lee flinched, spinning around to face the source of the roar. Appa let out another bellowing rumble and thumped his tail on the ground, sending a giant gust of wind at the girl. She gasped in a choked sort of way and was carried up into the air, flailing helplessly as she was knocked back into the trees like a ragdoll tossed by a tantrum-throwing child.

Katara blinked in surprise, then started struggling in earnest, trying to break free of the tiny dart-like weapons that held her trapped against the trunk. "Sokka, I'm stuck!"

"Keep trying," Sokka urged. "Creepy Pinky got me with her weird punching mojo. I can't move a muscle."

"Your mouth still appears to be working."

"That's different!"

Katara rolled her eyes and continued trying to free herself from being trapped as a human dart board. It occurred to her that Toph had been awfully quiet since she'd been struck. "Hey, Toph," she called, grunting with effort and wincing as a part of her robe ripped, "you alright?"

"I can't see."

The voice was so small it barely seemed to belong to the brazen earthbender.

Sokka let out a snort. "Um, Toph, you're blind. You always see nothing."

Katara groaned. Why did her brother have to be so dense sometimes? "She sees with her bending! Ty Lee has the power to take away someone's bending, so when Toph got hit—"

"Everything vanished," Toph finished.

There was a long pause.

"Sorry," Sokka said a bit sheepishly. "I forgot."

Toph exhaled in a loud breath. "Whatever. Someone just hurry up and fix this."

"Hold on," Katara said, struggling even more until she felt another piece of her robe tear. "My bending is still intact, so I should be—Momo!"

The lemur made a chittering sound and scrabbled down from the branches to remove the darts that kept Katara bound to the tree. She thanked him with a rub to his head, promising him a moonpeach, and then hurried to heal Toph and Sokka with her bending. It wasn't easy since part of their chi had been blocked, but soon all three of them were back on Appa and following the trail of white clumps. It wasn't long before a collection of rundown buildings and dusty roads came into view.

"There," Katara murmured, pointing at the abandoned settlement. "That's where the trail stops."

"Then let's go!" Toph said, punching her fist into her palm. "Aang needs our help."

Katara nodded. "Right."

It was time to let go of her bitterness. Aang needed her, and she would never abandon a person in need. She just hoped they would get there in time.

oOo

A dry breeze swirled through the street, ruffling clothes and kicking up dust with careless fingers. Zuko's heart pounded and he urged the ostrich horse to run faster. He was running out of time. At the end of the alleyway, he could see Azula facing the Avatar in the middle of the road as if in a stand-off, her posture relaxed and with a wicked smile curling her lips. Aang, on the other hand, seemed to be half-leaning on his staff. It was obvious that he was exhausted.

"Do you really want to fight me?" Azula asked, examining one pointed nail.

Zuko burst onto the street and jumped off his ostrich horse, fluidly landing in a half-crouch. "Yes," he gritted out, throwing off his mask and shifting into a bending stance. "I really do."

All the colour drained from Azula's face. It only lasted for a second, but it was enough. Her calm had been shaken. "You're meant to be dead," she said coldly.

This had been the wrong thing to say. Zuko's eyes narrowed and fire blossomed from his clenched fists. "Sorry to disappoint you," he spat, and then unleashed a torrent of flames at his sister.

Azula dodged the attack with the whip-like speed that had always categorised her fighting before countering with one of her own blue fireballs. A gust of wind rushed between them, blowing the sapphire flames out of Zuko's path and into the building opposite. Suddenly, the Avatar was moving to flank Azula, but Zuko threw his hand out in a burst of fire, which flared up in front of Aang like a wall of orange.

"Stay out of this!" Zuko growled.

"But I can help. If we fight together, we can—"

"I said stay back!" Zuko turned his head to glare at him. "This is my fight."

A cold laugh escaped Azula's lips. "Oh, Zuzu, you really are dense. Surely you must see that you can't win." She shook her head in mock despair. "You'd think you would have learned your lesson from the last time."

"I won't be making the same mistake again. This time I will make you pay!"

Her mouth curved into a cruel smile. Suddenly, she was running, launching a volley of flames at him with a calculated kick and two quick punches that shadowed her movements in arcs of blue. He blocked the first attack and dodged the others, using his momentum to counter with a blast of flames. She just laughed and side-stepped his attack as if it was nothing, then elbowed him in the chin. He reeled back, quickly bringing up a shield of fire to deflect her next blow. She was so fast. He tried to match her step for step, but she was always that fraction quicker, always that fraction more accurate. It was as if she knew exactly what he was going to do before he even did it, and the sharp little smile playing on her lips did nothing to assuage his anger.

Zuko growled in frustration and charged her with flames trailing from his fists. Red mist burned behind his eyes as they clashed in a collision of sapphire and orange, so hot he could feel the heat licking at his skin. Duck, parry, attack. His mind chanted the movements, urging him to move, to dodge, to do anything in his power to survive and bring his sister down. He couldn't lose to her! Not again!

"What's the matter, Zuzu?" she taunted, flashing her teeth in a vicious smile. "Getting tired already?"

"Shut up!"

His forearm collided with hers in a double-block, flames sparking between them in a hiss of heat. He grunted and pushed hard with his elbow, trying to use his greater strength to his advantage. She stumbled back and he quickly followed with a fire uppercut, but this time she was ready for him. One step to the left, a quick adjustment, and then her foot looped around his and tugged him off balance. He tried to use the momentum of falling to shift into a counter stance, but she rammed the heel of her palm hard into his face. His head thwacked against the ground from the impact and he sucked in a sharp breath, blinking away the black spots that danced in front of his eyes.

Azula leaned over him, a ball of blue fire glowing above her hand. "You lose," she said calmly.

His eyes widened as he realised what was coming, even as another part of him screamed at his body to move. He didn't even think; he just acted, pushing down on the ground with one hand and sweeping his legs out in a circular motion that morphed into flames. She hadn't expected that. Her eyes widened and she fell back onto one knee, gasping. A few strands of hair had fallen out of place. For the first time, she didn't look so perfect.

"I won't lose to you," Zuko panted, getting back to his feet. "I don't care how good you think you are. I don't care if the whole world thinks I have no chance. This time I won't lose!"

Azula laughed and stood up, smoothing her hair back into place. "Oh, stop being so dramatic. You're not going to beat me. You're simply not good enough." She smiled her sharp little smile. "But don't worry, I'll put you out of your misery soon enough."

Zuko made an inhuman sound of fury and lashed out at her with everything he had. She matched him blow for blow, smiling as if this was all an amusing game. It was infuriating. _She_ was infuriating. He knew his attacks were getting sloppier, more reckless, leaving him open to attack, but he couldn't help it. This monster was his sister; this girl who didn't seem to care at all that she had almost killed him with lightning or that he had been suffering for so long. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted to make her bleed and bruise and feel some, _any_, kind of pain.

But in the end it was Zuko who ended up on the ground, bruised and trembling with emotions that refused to be contained. "Why?" he rasped, staring up at Azula's blurred figure. She kept flickering in and out of focus. "Why did you do it? You're my sister."

His voice broke on the last word as if it was physically painful to speak. Azula just appraised him through her cold, calculating eyes. They both knew he was referring to the fact that she had struck him with lightning—tried to kill him in what had looked to be cold blood.

She pressed her boot against his chest, pushing him down against the dusty earth. "You signed your own death sentence when you went against me. You should have known your place. A pathetic firebender like you has no chance against me. You're just a weak little boy who is not fit to be the heir. Even Father agrees with me. That's why he sent me to bring you back to the Fire Nation, because you'd failed one too many times and he was tired of you embarrassing him."

Zuko blinked as black dots swarmed before his eyes. She was lying. She was always lying, but then hadn't he seen the memories? Fire and tears and a cold arena floor pressing against his knees; screams and blood and the smell of burning flesh. It was all there in his mind, but he was just so confused and he didn't know what was right anymore. He just didn't know.

Azula dug her heel into his chest, grinding into the bone. "Face it, Zuzu. Mother might have loved you the most, but she's not around anymore. No one is here to protect you. It's just you and me, and—"

"Me," Aang finished, and sent her flying down the street with a blast of wind.

Zuko blinked and stared dazedly at him, watching the arrow on his forehead shift and move in a blue swirl. He opened his mouth to tell the Avatar off for interfering—because, damn it, he didn't need the brat's help—but no words came out. Instead, Zuko's vision swarmed even more with black dots until all he could see was an endless expanse of inky darkness. Thoughts trickled through his mind like cupped sand: anger at his sister, anger at the Avatar, confusion and despair and loneliness and longing and—

His eyes fluttered open, presenting him with a view of a sky bathed in the colours of fire. He could smell smoke and, as his senses adjusted to being awake again, could hear the distinct grunts and clashes of a bending fight.

Zuko was on his feet in an instant, following the noises as he sprinted down the maze-like streets and alleys. The sound of pounding feet and bending was getting louder. He quickened his pace and rounded a corner to see Azula dash past him. He shot a fireball at her, which she dodged, and then found himself running side-by-side Katara. Their eyes met for a fraction, and he could see in her gaze a myriad of emotions that were too convoluted to make any sense to him. He focussed on the street ahead; there was no time to get distracted, only to run.

The hunt was on, and the predator in him could sense that they were closing in on their prey. More were joining him, closing in around Azula from all sides. There was the Avatar and Sokka. Katara was on Zuko's left, and a little girl in green, who he didn't recognise, had taken up the far left flank. A larger figure moved to take up the position on his right.

Zuko's breath came short and fast. He would recognise that beard anywhere. His uncle was here. His uncle was _here_ and—

"Well, look at this," Azula said calmly, turning to face them all. "Enemies and traitors working together." She raised her hands, holding them palm-up. "I'm done. You got me. A princess knows when to surrender with honour."

No one moved. Zuko didn't think he could. His mind was a jumble, staggered by the fact that his uncle was _right there_. He chanced a glance at the old man from the corner of his eye, but Iroh wasn't looking at him. Those reddish-brown eyes were fixed on Aang as if Iroh had just realised who else was forming the circle and then shifted to Zuko in wide-eyed wonder. That was when Azula's mouth curved into a sharp little smile.

Her hands moved faster than seemed possible, releasing a streak of lightning that lashed out like a whip. Zuko's heart stuttered in his chest, but the energy was crackling past his face, heading more to the right and—

"No!"

The cry was wrenched from him, raw and primal. He retaliated with a surge of fire even as he saw his uncle's body fall from out the corner of his eye. Wind, water, earth and even a boomerang joined his flames, all heading straight for Azula. She moved her arms in a swift motion and he caught a glimpse of blue—a fire shield—and then everything seemed to explode in a cloud of smoke and dust. It was impossible to see, but he already knew she would be gone by the time the debris and smoke cleared. She was much too clever not to make use of the commotion. Not that it mattered now.

Zuko swallowed against the hard lump forming in his throat and let his fire die out. He slumped to his knees beside his uncle and clutched at his tunic, conscious of the stuttering heartbeat that he could feel beneath his palm. It felt so weak.

"Uncle," he choked out, curling his fingers into the rough fabric. "Please, no. This can't be happening. Not now. I've only just found you again."

Iroh groaned but his eyes remained shut. Zuko didn't know what to do. It hadn't looked as if Azula had struck Iroh with a full-powered lightning bolt (not like the one she had fired at him on the ship, in any case), but then Iroh was an old man and did not have Zuko's weird ability to heal faster than normal.

Wait, _he_ could heal! Hadn't he done the same for the Avatar?

Frantically, he placed his hands over the smoking, charred spot where Azula had struck Iroh and willed the wound to fix itself. This time the sharp tug on his gut was almost instant, as if the tiny sun he could feel burning inside him had already been reaching out to Iroh, urged by Zuko's own desperation.

_Heal!_ he inwardly screamed. _Heal, heal, heal!_

The connection sharpened. Dimly, he was aware of Aang standing near him and Katara trying to tell him something, but they were just pebbles of insignificance to him in that moment. All that mattered was that he needed to help his uncle, because though he was confused and uncertain of who to trust now, if anyone at all, he knew that he couldn't do this alone. He needed Iroh.

Zuko closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He felt smouldering embers mixed in with charred flesh and ripples of pain. He could feel his uncle—every wounded inch of the man, right down to the heartbeat that fluttered in his grasp. More energy was needed to fill this damage, and he let it all flow in a rush of pale gold, surging through his palms to the anchor that joined him and his uncle as one. Desperate to mend what needed to be mended.

Too much.

He sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as the tugging on his own inner flame became too insistent, too demanding. It hurt.

"Zuko, stop!"

Zuko blinked at the sound of Aang's voice, almost sluggishly, as if he were waking from a long sleep. His body felt heavy and weak, and it was then he realised that he was shaking. He also felt cold. Really, really cold.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Aang demanded, releasing his wrists.

Zuko just blinked in a daze, too weak and disorientated to really make sense of what was happening. His vision blurred in a swarm of dizzying splotches and lights and he swayed, eyes rolling back into his head. By the time his body hit the ground, he had passed out cold.


	14. Aftermath

Aang was on his knees in an instant. "Hey!" He tucked his arm around Zuko's limp form, holding him up against his lap. "Zuko, are you okay? Zuko!"

There was no response. Not even a flutter of an eyelash. Panic flared in Aang's chest. This wasn't right. It was a whisper in his heart—no, his very soul. Something had gone wrong during the healing, because that was what Zuko had been doing. He had been trying to heal the old man. Everyone had felt the sheer warmth and radiance emanating from him as if his body had become a sun of life-giving light. Aang had been especially sensitive to the exchange, but then a chill had crept around his heart and he'd seen the way Zuko had started to tremble, seen the colour drain from his cheeks and his breathing come short and fast as if every breath was a struggle…

_Pulse. Check for a pulse._

Frantic now, Aang's fingers brushed against Zuko's wrist as he felt for the vital rhythm. He flinched back in surprise. "He's cold as ice!" he exclaimed, raising his head to stare at his companions. "I knew something had happened. We have to help him!"

Everyone turned to look at Katara. She was the only one with healing powers. It made sense that she would be the one to step forward, but her eyes were wide and she seemed frozen in place, just clutching the moon-like pendant at her throat.

"Katara, please," Aang begged. "Please, I know you're upset with me because I lied, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but I owe Zuko my life. I owe him so much. Please, isn't there anything you can do?"

For a moment she said nothing. She didn't even move. Then she let out a breath and life seemed to spring back into her body. Her fingers released the death-grip she had on her necklace and she knelt beside Aang and summoned the water from her flask, calm and methodical. "Hold him still," she said, not meeting Aang's eyes.

Aang did as ordered and watched as Katara held glowing palms to Zuko's temples. Slowly, she moved the water down, feeling for any trace of what had caused him to go unconscious. A few creases gathered on her brow. Not a good sign.

"There are no wounds," she said, pursing her lips. "Aside from a few bruises, there doesn't appear to be anything really wrong with him." Her hands moved back to his stomach area. "Maybe he's just worn out, but then that doesn't explain why he's so cold or—"

"Sunlight."

Aang turned at the new voice and was surprised to see the old man sitting up. Iroh groaned slightly as he rolled his shoulder in an experimental way, testing the part where Azula's lightning had struck, but he otherwise seemed fine. Zuko's healing must have paid off. He turned to face them with a benign smile.

"Um, what?" Aang blinked. "Did you just say sunlight?"

Iroh nodded and moved to kneel between Aang and Katara. Without preamble, he started removing Zuko's boots and clothes as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Katara made a choked, spluttering noise. "W-what are you doing?" she demanded, looking away.

"Firebenders gather their energy from the sun," Iroh explained patiently. "Zuko has lost an alarming amount of chi. I know because I've seen these symptoms before, though never this bad. The fastest way for him to recover is to have direct skin contact with sunlight." He cast an anxious glance at the fire-coloured sky. "I only hope we're not too late. The sun has almost set."

Sokka frowned and gripped Toph by her shoulders, turning her the other way.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Toph asked.

"You shouldn't be looking at him like that. It's not"—Sokka struggled for the right word—"decent."

Toph rolled her milky-green eyes. "I'm blind."

There was a pause, broken only by the sound of Katara slapping her palm against her forehead.

"Right." Sokka released Toph's shoulders and folded his arms across his chest, trying to look dignified. "Well, you still shouldn't be looking. I mean with those earthbendy feet sensors of yours, who knows what you see?"

Toph just stared in his general direction with a blank expression.

"Anyway," Aang said, looking back at the old firebender, "you're saying that all Zuko needs to do is rest here under the sun and he'll get better?"

Iroh spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "That's what I'm hoping. It worked the last time, so it should help again."

"Then I guess we wait," Aang declared.

He sat cross-legged and rested his chin on his hands, watching Zuko as if he would be able to see the sun working its magic in seconds.

"I'll go collect Appa and Momo," Sokka said with a sigh.

Katara got to her feet. "Then I'll see if I can find us some water."

Aang made a noncommittal sound that might have been a thank you. The knot of anxiety unsettling his stomach had eased a little since he'd learned sunlight might help, but he still couldn't help but feel worried. This was not the reunion he had been expecting. He hated seeing Zuko so helpless and vulnerable. He wished there was something he could do to help.

"You're really sure this sunlight thing is going to work?" Aang asked, glancing up at Iroh.

Iroh paused in the middle of making a pillow out of Zuko's tunic. "Do you have any better ideas?"

Aang shook his head.

"Then I guess we'll just have to wait and see." Iroh's eyes softened as he looked down at his nephew. "Zuko is strong. Frustratingly reckless sometimes and determined to give his uncle a heart attack, but in all the years I have travelled with him, I have yet to see him come up against an obstacle that he hasn't been able to overcome. I know he'll pull through this."

A faint smile curved Aang's lips. "You're right. If there's one thing I've learnt about Zuko, it's that he never gives up."

"No, he doesn't," Iroh agreed with a chuckle, "though I admit there is something that puzzles me. How did you get my nephew to stop hunting you? I've tried for three years to hint him into giving up his mission, but nothing could budge him from wanting to please his father and return home."

Toph blew her fringe out of her eyes and leaned back on her palms. "I'd like to know more about this Zuko guy as well. You guys haven't exactly told me much about what happened before I joined you."

Aang brought his legs up to his chest, hugging his knees. "I don't really know if I understand everything myself, but I guess things first started to change when Zuko rescued me from Pohuai Stronghold…"

Before he knew it, he was telling them all about the night he was saved by the Blue Spirit and the events that followed: how Zuko had healed his wound and stopped him from dying; how they had fought as allies against Admiral Zhao on the river bank; how he had learnt that he had a spiritual connection with Zuko, which made it possible for him to sense when Zuko was in mortal danger. He told them everything—even the conversation the two had shared in the prison at the North Pole. Sokka and Katara had come back while he had talked, along with Momo and Appa, and Aang had directed his words as much at them as he had Toph and Iroh. He wanted them to understand the bond he shared with Zuko and why a person that should be his enemy had come to mean so much to him.

"I don't know if he feels the same," Aang admitted, shaking his head. "I've done a lot of stupid things that I really regret now, but even if he won't accept my friendship, I can't go back to seeing him as an enemy." He stared earnestly at Katara and Sokka. "Zuko is a good person. He's always been there for me, even when he was trying to capture me. I know it seems strange to you, but I can't give up on him now. I just can't."

Katara said nothing and gazed at Zuko with her brow furrowed, clearly lost in her own thoughts. Aang wished he knew what she was thinking, but then Sokka clapped him on the shoulder, jolting him from his musings.

"You don't need to explain yourself, Aang," Sokka said. "We get it. I mean, I won't deny that it bothered me when you lied to us about his identity, and I still wouldn't trust him with a barrel of seal jerky, but he has helped you out and I guess 'Lee' wasn't so bad. If you're right that Lee and Zuko aren't so different, then maybe you're also right that Zuko isn't such a bad guy." Sokka shrugged. "Either way, he helped us kick Crazy Blue Flames's butt, and that has to be a good thing."

"She still got away, though," Toph said bitterly.

Iroh stroked his beard. "Yes, it worries me that Azula escaped. She is a dangerous enemy to have, and today you hurt her pride. I do not doubt that she will be planning something."

"Then we'll just have to beat her again," Aang said. "It's my duty to bring down the Fire Lord and restore balance to the world. I'm not going to let anyone get in my way, especially not some crazy girl who attacks my friends."

"That 'crazy girl' is Zuko's sister," Iroh said grimly. "She's also a prodigy and extremely intelligent. Do not underestimate her."

Something clenched in Aang's stomach. "I know."

His gaze shifted back to Zuko, who lay unconscious on the dusty ground, bruised and scarred. Aang didn't understand. Why would Azula attack her own brother? He knew that Sokka and Katara had their disagreements, but they would never actively seek to wound the other to the point of putting their lives in danger.

"Zuko's relationship with his sister has always been complicated," Iroh explained, as if able to hear Aang's thoughts. "The older both of them have got, the worse things have become between them." Creases formed on his brow, aging him another ten years. "I wish it were otherwise, but I'm afraid Azula will not stop until she has removed her brother as a rival and has taken you prisoner, Avatar."

Aang didn't know what to say. Somehow, it didn't seem so easy now to think he could just defeat her again with Iroh looking at him so grimly. It wasn't as if Aang knew the girl, and just surviving their three encounters hadn't been a walk in the park. He knew he would not have won today had he been alone. It made him wonder what it would be like to battle the Fire Lord. Would Ozai be even craftier, even more skilled?

Knots twisted in his stomach, filling him with a sickly, nervous sensation. Best not to think about that right now. There would be plenty of time to worry about how to deal with the Fire Lord after he had mastered the four elements.

"Well, I'm just glad we're all okay," Aang said, hastily changing the subject. "I mean, Zuko is unconscious, but you said that sun thing should work, so he's bound to wake up sooner or later and ..."

And he was babbling. Aang knew it but he couldn't seem to stop the words from gushing out in an awkward mess, like congee spilling from an upturned pot. He could feel Katara and Sokka looking at him in concern, perhaps sensing his agitation, but he just ploughed on until he was forced to pause for a proper breath. By that point, Toph had mercifully distracted their attention by asking Iroh some questions about himself. She was curious to know more about the old man, and Sokka and Katara didn't seem to mind learning about the enigma that was the Dragon of the West either.

A sigh escaped Aang's lips. Thank the spirits for that. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to his friends how terrified he was of actually facing the Fire Lord. Sure, he talked with a lot of bravado about his duty and how he had to restore balance to the world, but Aang hated thinking too deeply about how that would actually happen. It was easier to focus on other things, like the fact that he had to master earthbending or his complicated, on-and-off again friendship with Zuko.

Momo leapt off Sokka's shoulder and started sniffing Zuko's hand, then his arm, as if trying to figure out why this scarred, unconscious boy smelt just like the masked one that used to travel with them. Suddenly, he made a chirruping noise and crawled on Zuko's stomach where he sat perched like a long-eared, furry guard. The sight brought a smile to Aang's lips.

"Well, aren't you a handsome little fellow," Iroh said, and scratched Momo under the chin, much to the lemur's delight.

"That's Momo," Aang explained. "He took a liking to Zuko when he was travelling with us as the Blue Spirit."

"My nephew always did have a way with animals," Iroh mused thoughtfully. "At least, when he wasn't letting his impatience get the better of him." He chuckled. "The stories I could tell you."

Sokka needed no further encouragement. He was very eager to learn all about Zuko's embarrassing stories. (The gleeful smile on his face was a little worrying, truth be told.) Fortunately, Iroh was more than happy to share, quite oblivious to the fact that his nephew would be displeased if he knew what was going on. Soon, the whole group were laughing as Iroh told tales about his travels, including the time Zuko had got chased by an angry saber-tooth moose lion for over an hour when he was thirteen after accidentally walking into its nesting ground.

"The crew gave him such a hard time afterwards," Iroh said, shaking his head with a rueful smile, "but I still couldn't help but be proud of him."

"What do you mean?" Katara asked.

Iroh's expression softened. "I asked Zuko why he let the animal chase him for so long. He said with perfect seriousness that he didn't want to risk hurting it with his firebending because the mother was just protecting her babies, and that's what mums do."

Something shifted in Katara's expression as if a shadow had passed over her. She clutched the pendant at her throat and fell silent, no longer amused. Even Sokka looked a bit grim. Aang wondered why such a statement should bother them so much. Was it something to do with their deceased mother?

Toph wriggled her finger inside her nose. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm getting hungry. Got any food in that bag of yours, old man?"

Iroh chuckled and reached for his pack. "I don't have much food, but I can make us some tea. I'm sure Zuko will like some when he wakes up, anyway."

Aang smiled. Tea sounded excellent. It had been a long time since he'd had a good cup of tea. Even Sokka and Katara looked intrigued, which had to be a good sign. Finally, everyone was getting along. Finally, everything was going right. And if somewhere out there Azula was plotting something horrible to pay them back for what they did today, well, they would deal with that later. After all, even if Aang was vulnerable on his own, he knew he could take down anyone with his friends at his side. Azula didn't stand a chance.

oOo

The sky was darkening. Azula gritted her teeth and urged her eel-hound to run faster. She couldn't believe that Zuko was alive. A part of her still remembered the way her heart had jolted in a dizzying rush when she had seen his face; how her emotions had tangled and collided in a confusing mess, so intense she'd felt like an invisible hand had shoved her right in the chest.

_"Why did you do it? You're my sister."_

Azula made a strangled sound in the back of her throat and gripped the reins so hard her knuckles burned white. Just stop thinking about it. Zuko was a weak, pathetic excuse for a prince who their father even saw as expendable. Besides, he had teamed up with the Avatar to fight against her. He had betrayed his people.

"Traitor," she hissed.

Iroh and Zuko were nothing more than enemies to the Fire Nation now. At least she had managed to get in a good shot at her uncle, but Zuko had surprised her. He'd fought better than the last time they'd duelled. For a moment she had even been a little worried, that is until he had let his anger get the better of him and started using sloppy bending and obvious attacks that even an idiot would have been able to predict. Really, her brother would never learn.

Azula closed her eyes and inhaled a calming breath. She felt better now. Less agitated and confused. It was easy to compartmentalise her feelings for Zuko into the little box in her mind labelled "Unpractical" when she wasn't confronted with him. Compassion never got a person anywhere. Just look at where it had got Zuko: scarred, banished and alone. She would not make the same mistake. She was the good child, the useful child. Their father would never have a reason to be disappointed in her.

_"I don't know what is wrong with that child."_

Her smug smile tightened, twisting into a vicious sort of grimace. Her mother's voice was always haunting her—had been for as long as she could remember since Mother had first disappeared. Sometimes, Azula thought she could even see the woman staring at her with that same look of disappointment and repulsion, as if the girl she had called daughter were some kind of monster.

Azula clenched her fists even tighter, feeling her nails dig crescent wounds into her palms. It was a relief when she saw the camp come into sight. She'd never admit it, but she hated being alone. There was no distraction from the voices in her head when she only had herself for company. She needed to vent some of her frustration. What better way than to scold her dear friends for botching up their task of keeping the Avatar's tag-alongs busy and thus ruining her own plans?

"Where are Mai and Ty Lee?" she demanded, stopping in front of one of the camp guards.

The man bowed in a twitchy sort of way and stuttered something about a tank and Mai and how something had gone wrong and—

"Enough!" Azula snapped. "Just send them to my tent when they get here."

"Yes, your highness," the guard replied, bowing so low his head bumped his knees.

Azula walked past the guard without a second glance and headed for her tent. She ordered a servant to prepare her a bath while another began removing her armour. No one could ever do anything right around here. She couldn't even trust Mai and Ty Lee to get the job done, which was a disappointment. People always seemed to be letting her down of late.

_Like your brother._

She stiffened, causing the servant who was undressing her to look up in surprise. "Are you alright, Princess?"

Azula's eyes narrowed. "Did I ask you to speak?"

"N-no, Princess," the servant stammered.

"Then be silent and do your job."

The servant bobbed her head in a quick bow and went back to removing pieces of armour bit by bit, careful not to do anything that might cause a second scolding. Azula almost smiled. Almost. It often amused her to torment her underlings, but right now she was too irritated. Memories of Zuko kept escaping the little box that she liked to keep him locked inside. Worse, she now had to write a letter to her father explaining that Zuko was actually alive.

Typical Zuko. Always ruining everything.

No doubt his healing powers had come into play. She would have to remember not to underestimate the extent of his ability in the future. But no matter. She would tell her father the "good news" and then counter that with the unfortunate information that Zuko, along with Iroh, had indeed become a traitor to the Fire Nation. Her brother had no hope of ever reclaiming his place as the heir to the throne.

The servant removed the red headpiece from Azula's hair, letting the black locks tumble free to her waist. Meanwhile, the woman who had been preparing the bath came forward and helped to strip Azula. Both women then stepped back with a bow, keeping their eyes on the ground. Azula walked over to the brass tub, which was now steaming with hot water. She dipped a finger in the bath and glanced at her servants.

"Leave," she ordered.

"Yes, Princess," they chanted, still keeping their gaze lowered.

Azula waited until the tent doors had folded closed before stepping into the bath. She shut her eyes as she sank back into the water, letting the liquid heat wash over her and ease some of the tension tightening her chest. The frantic voices in her mind were finally beginning to calm, allowing her to think, to plan. She was still thus engaged when she heard a servant call to her from outside.

"Speak," Azula responded with her eyes closed.

"Your highness, Mai and Ty Lee are here waiting to report to you."

Azula frowned and got out of the bath, slipping on a loose robe. "Send them in."

The tent door was pulled back, and Azula watched as Mai and Ty Lee entered. Her sharp eyes were quick to note the bump on Ty Lee's head, as well as the scrapes and bruises on her arms. Mai didn't have a hair out of place.

"What happened?" Azula demanded.

"We lost," Ty Lee said with a pout. "Well, we didn't actually lose, but—"

Azula's eyebrow rose as Ty Lee stumbled through her explanation. Mai stepped in to help clarify matters, which did little to ease Azula's frustration. They had been so close and Ty Lee blew it because of that ridiculous ball of fluff. Vicious words of censure burned her tongue—such failure could not be tolerated—but then she just sighed and pressed a hand to her temple. "Very well," she said in a much calmer tone. "I guess it can't be helped."

The two girls exchange surprised glances. No doubt they were expecting a reprimand (and would have deserved it), but Azula found she didn't have the energy. Mai and Ty Lee were still her only friends, and the perfectionist part of her knew that if she had not wasted so much time fighting Zuko, she could have captured the Avatar herself. In the end, she was as much at fault.

"Are you alright, Azula?" Ty Lee asked, tilting her head like a curious sparrowkeet. "Your aura is looking a little grey."

Mai rolled her eyes. She had never believed in auras. Azula didn't either for that matter, but she couldn't deny that Ty Lee could be rather astute when she wanted.

"Zuko is alive," Azula said coolly.

Mai's eyes widened a fraction, but she otherwise didn't seem to react. It was Ty Lee who gasped theatrically and pressed her hands against her cheeks. "He's alive?" she exclaimed. "But I thought you said he drowned in the ocean."

"I thought he did," Azula admitted. "He had been struck with lightning. There was no way he should have survived, yet there he was earlier helping to protect the Avatar and demanding to fight me."

That did get a reaction out of Mai. "What do you mean?" she asked, taking a step forward. "Why would Zuko protect the Avatar?"

Azula tucked a damp lock of hair behind her ears. "It seems my brother has become a traitor to the Fire Nation. From what I saw today, he's sided with the Avatar."

Ty Lee frowned and pressed a finger to her chin. "Hrm, I guess he really is our enemy now."

Mai said nothing. Azula was tempted to prod and push to figure out what the stoic girl was thinking, but if she were to be completely honest, she was still trying to figure out what she thought herself. Emotions tumbled and roiled within her: anger and confusion tangled up with memories of the past, of the little moments of affection and a big brother who hadn't always been so pathetic in her eyes. She'd wanted to hurt him earlier. Still did. He was like a thorn digging into her heart, painful yet still close enough to be part of the life-giving beat.

No. She couldn't let him get to her. She had to be strong.

Azula plastered a mask of cruel apathy on her face. "My brother chose his path. If he wants to betray the Fire Nation, he will have to face the consequences. Traitors will not be tolerated."

Ty Lee bit her lip. "Yeah, but—"

"Azula is right," Mai said in an expressionless voice. "Zuko made his choice. There's nothing we can do."

No one said anything. Ty Lee just pouted in a dispirited way while Mai was like stone shaped into the form of a girl. Azula averted her face and caught a glimpse of Ursa in the coarse folds of the tent, face blurred into the fabric. Words whispered in her mind, taunting her in her mother's voice.

_Is this what you really want, Azula? Will you simply forget about the past?_

Azula closed her eyes. Then she locked all of her hurt, all of her doubts, into that tiny box in her mind. She had to be strong. She had to start planning.

oOo

Warmth. Zuko could feel it tingling through his body, breathing new life into exhausted limbs. A twitch of his fingers, a flutter of eyelashes. Like a newborn he struggled to make sense of his waking form, feeling oddly disconnected with himself as if his spirit had separated with his body and was now slowly knitting itself back together. His chest rose and fell, relaxed and steady. He felt the thrum of his heart vibrating through him, pulsing with blood, with life.

_Life._

That's right. He had tried to heal his uncle.

Of course it had gone wrong. His healing powers were unpredictable and dangerous. He knew that yet—

_It was Uncle._

Uncle Iroh who had cared for him when no else would. Uncle who had stayed by him, mentored him … and abandoned him.

The whisper of betrayal was like a tiny thread of fire burning through his heart, slowly turning everything to ashes. He hadn't wanted to acknowledge it before—had buried the feeling so far down that he had almost forgotten about it. There had been so much going on and he had been so scared and uncertain when he'd had amnesia, confused about his past and in whom he could trust. Then Iroh had appeared out of nowhere and Zuko had been so relieved. Finally, the search was over.

Now he just didn't know want to think. A part of him didn't want to leave the shadowy cocoon of his mind. It was better here in this imagined world. Reality only brought betrayal and pain. Reality was cruel and unforgiving, torturing him with yearnings that could not be fulfilled and a past that was as scarring as the wound on his face. He didn't want it. He wanted to be a child again and not deal with the fact that his father thought of him as worthless, his sister wanted to kill him, his mother had vanished, and even his uncle had abandoned him in the North Pole.

He was just so tired.

Zuko's hand twitched again. The real world tugged at his consciousness, pulling him out from the mist of scattered thoughts and shadows. A mantra he had long ago engraved into his mind burned through his thoughts.

_Never give up without a fight._

His fingers curled into fists. Zuko could admit that he wanted to run from it all, run back to a time when he didn't feel so broken. He was confused and exhausted and hurt. But he also knew that he couldn't give up. Not this time. He had come too far, suffered too much. If he stopped now, if he stayed in this cocoon of denial, it would all have been for nothing.

His very existence would mean nothing.

He opened his eyes. Old wooden beams, coated with dust and cobwebs, greeted his vision. He blinked and turned his head to see his uncle sitting beside him, fussing around with a teapot and some wooden cups. It was so typical of Iroh that it made Zuko's heart ache in an odd mixture of joy and sadness.

"Stupid old man," he said in a hoarse voice, though affection was hinted in every word. "Still obsessed with your tea even when you're living like a beggar."

Iroh almost dropped the cup he had been holding. "Zuko!"

Zuko found himself being pulled into a tight hug. His uncle's scratchy beard rubbed against his cheek.

"I'm so sorry," Iroh mumbled over and over. "I'm so sorry I left you. I'm so sorry you had to go through all that pain by yourself. If I had known, if I had just stayed a bit longer in the North Pole …"

Zuko remained frozen in Iroh's arms. Here was the explanation he had wanted, but he realised as he sat there clutched against his uncle's chest that something had changed between them. There was a distance that hadn't been there before, as if the stability of their relationship had been damaged and now little cracks were forming to weaken the foundation.

_He left you. He left you to be a prisoner to those people. How do you really know he even cares, let alone is sorry? No one else in your family loves you, so why should he?_

Zuko forced the hurtful words to the back of his mind and returned his uncle's embrace. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of tea leaves and herbs that he had for so long associated with Iroh. He didn't want to dwell on doubts right now, even if he couldn't quite erase them.

Iroh pulled back and clutched him by the shoulders. "You have changed so much. I barely recognised you at first."

Zuko shrugged out of his uncle's touch and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Well, you don't look so grand yourself," he retorted, gesturing at Iroh's untamed beard and mud-stained clothes.

Iroh spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "The dung-roach cannot become a butterfly-mantis."

Zuko's eyebrow rose. The proverbs were something he had definitely not missed.

Iroh chuckled. "I mean that I have become an inconspicuous beggar since the Fire Nation branded me a traitor and, alas, must also dress like one." He laughed again and rubbed his paunch-like belly. "It is not all bad. I think this forced poverty has made me lose weight."

At Zuko's blank stare, Iroh smiled in a sad sort of way and reached over to take his hand. "Perhaps you're right that this is not the time for jokes. There is much we need to discuss. I wanted to ask you about your hea—"

"Zuko!" Aang bounded in with a gust of wind and went to throw himself at Zuko in what could only be described as a tackle-hug, but then he stopped short. He scratched his bald head and chewed on his lip. "Um, I mean hi," he said shyly.

Zuko stared at him for a moment and then turned to his uncle. "Why is the Avatar still here?"

Aang's expression fell. He stared at his feet, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. You had me really worried."

"Well, I'm fine." Zuko made to stand, but his legs wobbled under his weight and he found himself being held up by his uncle.

"Don't push yourself too hard," Iroh warned, helping him lay back down. "You've lost a lot of energy."

Zuko gritted his teeth. Damn his body for being so weak.

Aang took a step forward. "Listen, I think we need to—"

"I don't want to hear it," Zuko interrupted. "Don't you think you've done enough?"

"Hey!"

Zuko swung his head round at the new voice to see the little girl in green standing in the doorframe, hand on her hip.

"You've got no right to speak to Twinkletoes that way," she said, pointing a finger at him. "This whole time he's been at your side worried sick on your behalf. The least you can do is hear him out."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" he demanded rudely.

"That's Toph," Aang mumbled, still staring at his feet. "My, uh, earthbending teacher."

Toph jutted her chin and glared at Zuko through milky-green eyes. No, not glared at him; it was more like she was gazing in his general direction. It was then that Zuko realised she was blind.

"Whatever," he muttered, looking the other way. "Just go bother someone else."

He needed time to think. He needed time to pull himself together and figure out what he really wanted. Perhaps Iroh sensed this, because he steered the children out of the house with a few, well-chosen words. Soon, it was just Iroh and Zuko again.

"Thank you," Zuko said simply.

Iroh nodded. "I heard the Avatar's story. I can see that you have still not forgiven him."

Zuko remained silent. Yes. No. He wasn't sure. Too much had happened.

Iroh sighed. "Well, perhaps it is better if you just get some rest tonight. We can talk tomorrow." He stood up and headed for the door, pausing to look over his shoulder at the prince. "I'll bring some food for you, and please help yourself to the tea. It's jasmine, nice and cal—"

"Calming," Zuko finished with a wry smile. "I know."

The corner of Iroh's mouth quirked in an answering grin. For a moment, everything was back to normal. It was just like when they were on the ship together, repeating the same old routine that had always been their bickering but tender relationship. There was so much kindness in Iroh's eyes, so much understanding but also regret. Zuko hated that it couldn't last. Somehow, even with his memories, he was still a jigsaw with a single piece missing. He knew that he had to find the way to make himself whole.


	15. Crossroads

Zuko awoke the next morning to find that he was alone in the abandoned house. For a moment, he almost wondered if he had just been dreaming everything that had happened: the fight, the reunion, the lightning. Then he spotted his uncle's belongings stacked neatly in the corner, along with the wooden cup that still held the dregs of jasmine tea. So, it wasn't a dream.

He should have been happy. In truth, he was just exhausted.

Sighing, he pushed the blankets off his legs and stood up, stretching to ease the stiffness out of his limbs. He'd been too tired and overwhelmed last night to register that someone had stripped off most of his clothing. Now he stared at his bared skin in resignation. Obviously, his uncle's work. Zuko would have been more upset had he not sensed the necessity behind the action. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden boards, letting him absorb into his body all of the energy contained within the golden streams.

It wasn't enough. Not at all.

He raised his hand and focussed his energy to create a ball of flames. It was like trying to get water out of a rock. The most he got was a tiny wisp of fire that fluttered like a ribbon before snuffing out. Sweat beaded his forehead. That had been … painful, to say the least, as if he were ripping his soul apart just trying to summon the power of his inner fire.

As if there was nothing left inside him but cold embers.

"I was afraid that this would happen."

Zuko spun around to see his uncle standing in the doorway, holding a bowl of congee. His expression was solemn.

"This is the reason you got chi deficiency the last time, isn't it?" Iroh said. "You had just healed the Avatar."

Zuko let his hand drop back to his side. "Yes."

"Well, then sunlight should return your bending to normal."

"I guess."

There was an awkward silence. In the past, his uncle would have been able to fill that pause with one of his silly, genial comments and the moment would have passed. Now the tension just lingered, uncomfortable and whispering of unspoken words.

Zuko's hands trembled. He turned the other way. "It doesn't matter now. What's done is done. I'm just glad you're o—"

"Don't be foolish." For the first time, Iroh sounded genuinely frustrated. "I appreciate what you did for me, Nephew, but healing my wound caused you to go unconscious for several hours and has significantly weakened your bending. This isn't something you can just brush aside."

"What was I supposed to do? You had been struck with lightning! You weren't moving! I could barely feel your heartbeat and—"

"You panicked. I know. I'm sorry I put you in that situation. I should have known better than to let my guard down. It is a mistake I will always regret, especially since I caused you so much pain."

Zuko swallowed. "I don't care about that. I just wanted you to be well."

Even if it still hurt to think that Iroh had abandoned him. Even if a part of him wondered if he would ever be able to fix the cracks that had splintered through his heart during their separation.

Iroh let out a soft breath. "Nephew, you don't understand. Every time you heal, you're gambling with your future. The Avatar told me that, thanks to the spiritual connection you share, he could feel your life energy dwindling when you healed me." He shook his head. "I know you're reckless, but the risks are too great when it comes to this form of bending. It's likely the intense draining effect is one of the reasons why fire healers were so rare in the past. Most of them probably shied from even using the technique."

A frown creased Zuko's brow. "What spiritual connection? What are you talking about?" He took a step closer. "And what do you mean that fire healers were rare in the past? Do you know something about my healing powers? Tell me!"

It was the whine of a child. Zuko didn't care. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams, as if a thousand screams of rage and pain were locked up inside him, trying to claw their way out of his chest. Everything had been ripped away from him: his home, his family, his memories, even the good feelings that had made him once trust this man implicitly. He'd tried his best to piece himself back together, to collect all the scattered parts of himself, but it wasn't enough. Nothing made sense any more. Everything was out of his control. He just wanted some real answers.

Zuko took another step forward, curling his fingers into his uncle's tunic. "Tell me."

Iroh closed his eyes. "I don't have all the answers. The only thing I know for certain is that your gift is both extremely rare and dangerous." He closed his hand around the one gripping his tunic and met Zuko's gaze. "Promise me that you won't heal any more. Not until we can find out the truth."

Zuko wrenched himself away, almost knocking the bowl of congee out of his uncle's hands. "You sound just like Mother."

"What?"

Zuko stared down at his shaking hands. "She told me to never use my bending for anything other than what my masters taught me." His voice hoarsened. "She knew. She'd always known. That was why she had Shizue watch me, because she was afraid." A shudder went through his body. "They thought ... they thought I was unnatural."

"No." Iroh placed the bowl of congee on the floor and moved closer, clasping Zuko's hands in his own. "Your mother loved you, Zuko. She was only trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" Zuko exclaimed, feeling the sting of tears burn his eyes. "I can heal people with my bending! I healed you! Maybe it does weaken me, but how did she even know that it would have that effect? It doesn't make sense!"

Iroh shook his head, more helpless than disagreeing.

Zuko pulled himself away. His whole body was trembling now. "Why doesn't anyone just tell me the truth?" he half-whispered. "I'm so tired of all these lies and secrets."

"The truth is not an easy burden to carry. Sometimes, it can even destroy us. That is why we, as humans, prefer to look at the shadows on the wall, glimpsing only echoes of what the sun might reveal."

"I don't want your proverbs. I just want to know the truth. What do you really know about my fire healing? What are you still keeping from me?"

Iroh spread his hands. "I did not come here to hide things from you. Believe me, all I want to do is help, but—"

"But what?"

Iroh just stared at him, trying to reason with him in silent words. _You are not ready for this_, those eyes seemed to say. _I don't want to hurt you_.

Zuko refused to back down. He was done running.

Iroh must have sensed his resolve, for he exhaled in a resigned sort of way and sat down on the floor. "I did not lie when I said I don't have all the answers. All I know is what has been passed down in the royal family archives, and that is corrupted at best. The rest are just whispers of truth that even time has not been able to destroy."

Zuko said nothing. He knelt on the hard floor, staring at his uncle with his hands clenched on his lap.

"You are a special kind of firebender that were once known as the Children of the Undying Fire. Exceptionally rare, but also exceptionally dangerous."

"What do you mean by dangerous?"

Iroh shrugged. "I'm not sure. All I know is that the royal family swore an oath many centuries ago to destroy the Children of the Undying Fire. Something must have happened, something that caused the Fire Nation to unite against the fire healers to wipe them out from existence."

"But why?" Zuko licked his dry lips. "Why would people want to hurt those like me? I mean, we can heal."

"I don't know. I wish I did." Iroh shook his head. "Too much time has passed since fire healers were an accepted part of our world. The truth has become corroded. Perhaps the fire healers themselves chose to become a lost part of history, sensing that it was the only way they could survive. Either way, it would not be wise for you to broadcast your talents. You never know who might recognise you for what you are."

Zuko let out a breath. "I still don't understand. Why would fire healers be such a threat?"

"Why would Fire Lord Sozin wipe out an entire nation of airbenders just to end the Avatar cycle?" Iroh shook his head. "People do terrible things when they feel threatened. No doubt the Fire Lord of that time felt the same way as your great grandfather."

Zuko opened his mouth to argue, to repeat all of the propaganda he had been taught as a child as to why the fight against the Air Nomads had been justified. Then he thought of the sanctuary hidden beneath the banyan tree; he thought of all those children who had been forced to hide and, in the process, who had lost their bending. He realised that he had stopped believing in those words a long time ago.

His shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground. "What am I supposed to do? I can't control my healing powers. I don't even know how I trigger them. It just happens."

Iroh placed his hand over Zuko's trembling fists. "We will figure something out. In the meantime, you just focus on getting plenty of sunlight. You're going to need all of your strength."

Zuko's mouth tilted downwards. "I know. Azula will be back."

It hurt just to think about it. His own sister had viciously attacked them. The little girl who had worried about him when she had seen him climbing on rooftops was no more. In her place was a cold, calculating warrior who would never compromise for the sake of compassion.

Just like that day.

_"Don't worry, Zuzu. I just want to see how your fire works."_

A twinge of pain lanced through his mind. He hissed and rubbed at his temples.

"Something wrong?" Iroh asked, glancing at him in concern.

"It's just a lingering effect from when I lost my memories. Sometimes, I get sharp pains in my head when a new memory comes back or I can't fully recall something."

Iroh's eyes widened. "Do you mean to tell me that you are still experiencing amnesia?"

Zuko gave a helpless shrug. "I'm not sure. It feels like there are still bits and pieces of my life missing, but—"

Arms suddenly pulled him into a warm embrace. "I'm so sorry, Zuko. This is my fault. I should have been at your side. I should have been there to protect you."

Zuko said nothing. He wanted to pull away from his uncle. He wanted to draw closer. Instead, he just sat there like carved stone.

"We will fix this," Iroh promised, pulling away to meet his eyes. "The young waterbender travelling with the Avatar is a healer. She should be able to heal sicknesses of the mind as well. There may be a way to retrieve all of your memories."

Zuko averted his gaze. "Maybe."

He would never admit it, but a part of him was still afraid. Whatever memories he had yet to recover, he sensed that they were the most wounding, most emotionally damaging parts of his past. If anything was worse than his own father burning and banishing him, he wasn't sure that he really wanted to know.

Iroh smiled at him. "Trust me, Nephew. Everything is going to be alright."

Zuko nodded, more because he didn't want to continue the conversation than because he agreed. He was too tired to explain his feelings, too tired to even begin unravelling what he really felt. It was easier to stay silent and go along with what his uncle was saying. His mind was reeling with information and emotions. He needed time to process everything. It was time to change the subject.

His gaze settled on the bowl of congee. "Breakfast?" he asked.

"Courtesy of Master Katara," Iroh said, handing him the bowl. "She was up early preparing food for everyone."

A reluctant smile curved Zuko's mouth. That sounded like Katara: always ready to be the mum of the group. She'd even tried to mother him when he had travelled with them as Lee. "Give her my thanks," he said softly.

Iroh hauled himself to his feet with a groan. "Tell her yourself. She's just outside cleaning the dishes."

"I doubt she'd want to talk to me."

"Well, you won't know until you try." Iroh smiled. "Give her a chance. Who knows? Perhaps she will surprise you."

Zuko just stared at the ground. Maybe. Maybe not.

"It's the least you can do," Iroh said gently. "These people reached out to you when you had no one else. Don't be so quick to turn your back on them now just because you've remembered that you're supposed to be enemies."

Zuko frowned at his hands. Did he still think they were enemies? Certainly he was upset with the Avatar for all the lies the boy had fed him while he'd had amnesia, but Katara and Sokka ...

He raised his head, but his uncle had already gone. Frowning, he stared at the open doorway to where he could see a glimpse of the dusty road where he and Azula had fought. If he listened closely, he could hear the sound of wooden bowls clinking together and the faint slosh of waterbending. His stomach twisted, even as a sliver of uncertainty slid down his spine. Aang, Sokka, Katara—he had travelled with them as an ally while wearing the mask of the Blue Spirit. It had been easy to talk to them then, back when he had been unaware of his identity.

But now…

Now there was no mask. Now he was just Zuko, the banished prince of the Fire Nation. Now he didn't know what he wanted, let alone how he was supposed to speak to those he had called his enemies.

A sigh escaped his lips. He picked up the wooden spoon and slowly started digging his way into the congee. Katara had prepared the food with her own hands. She had made enough so that he and his uncle would also have a share in the meal. Surely that meant something?

_"Give her a chance. Who knows? Perhaps she will surprise you."_

Zuko frowned and placed the half-finished bowl aside. He knelt by the pile of clothes on the floor and slipped on the loose, black pants he had been wearing yesterday, though he didn't bother to pull on his boots. Chi deficiency or not, he was not going to wander around in his undergarments.

Satisfied that his modesty was still somewhat intact, he picked up the bowl of congee and left the rundown building. The street was quiet, though he could see scorch marks on the road and abandoned houses from the previous day's struggle. Not far from the house where he had rested, he found Katara kneeling by what looked like the remnants of a campfire. A pot and a few dishes were stacked up next to her, along with a bucket of water. His uncle was nowhere to be seen.

Zuko hesitated on the porch. She hadn't noticed his presence yet, too busy scrubbing one of the wooden bowls. The pendant hanging around her throat gleamed in the sun, glinting like a sapphire against her skin. Well, at least he understood now why he had recognised her necklace during their retreat from Omashu. After all, he had kept it tied around his wrist, planning to use it as a tool to capture the Avatar.

_Don't kid yourself_, his inner voice mocked. _This girl isn't going to want to talk to you. Why should she when you still refuse to speak to the Avatar? You think you deserve any better after everything you have done?_

Zuko sighed and turned to go back in the house. Suddenly, Katara raised her head and stared straight at him. His eyes widened. Damn, he'd been seen.

For a moment, neither of them moved. He swallowed, conscious of the sudden dryness in his throat. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, not sure if he was about to be pushed off or pulled to safety. Every bad thing he had ever done to this girl flashed before his mind: the kidnapping, the attack on her village, the fight in the Spirit Oasis. On and on it went, twisting his heart into a lump of guilt. However, for all their unhappy history together, he couldn't help but recall the kinder memories they had created back when he'd just been a boy named Lee. He saw a girl trying to teach a masked warrior how to waterbend, a girl healing his bruises and scolding him because he insisted on carrying his burdens without her assistance.

A girl who had tried so hard to be his friend.

Zuko let out a small breath and walked towards her. "Um, I just wanted to say thanks for the food." He held up the bowl of congee. "Uncle said you were the one who made it."

Katara stared at him with her big, blue eyes. It was like looking into the gaze of the ocean: an endless blue that could swallow him whole or help carry him to shore. He realised that he was nervous. Somehow, for whatever reason, there was a part of him that didn't want her to hate him again. Not after she had cared for him so sincerely when he had worn the mask.

Spirits, he was pathetic.

She lowered her gaze to the bucket of water near her feet. "It's just a bit of congee," she said in a voice that sounded too even to be natural. "I would have done that for anyone."

Something heavy settled in his stomach. "Right."

The silence lingered between them, awkward and uncomfortable. Zuko tried not to feel bitter. He knew that he had no right to expect anything from her. After all, she had no ties to him, only a phantom named Lee who didn't actually exist. No doubt Sokka would be the same. Those memories of silly sword fights and a girl with caring hands were nothing more than a passing dream from a life Zuko could not recapture.

He exhaled and averted his face. "Right," he repeated. "Well, I guess I'll just go then."

He turned and walked back towards the rundown building. Never mind that the heaviness in his chest seemed to get worse with each step. It was better this way, right? He still had so much he needed to figure out. He didn't have time to be sentimental or worry about what would happen to the little gang who had taken him in as one of their own.

"Wait."

He paused and glanced over his shoulder.

She stood up, one hand clutching the pendant at her throat. "Did you ... did you really have no idea who you were back then? Back when you were travelling with us, I mean."

His eyes narrowed. "What, you think I was just making it up now that you know who I really am?" When she didn't respond, he let out a small laugh, though the sound was devoid of any amusement. "Well, I guess it's to be expected. I'm the enemy, right?"

She lowered her gaze. "Aang doesn't seem to think so. He told us all about how you helped him as the Blue Spirit, and that was when you still had your memories." Her brow furrowed. "He seems to think that you and Lee aren't all that different."

Zuko stared at her curiously. "What do you think?"

She gave a small shrug, still not meeting his gaze. "I don't know. You've always hunted us. It's hard for me to believe that you don't have a hidden agenda. For all I know, helping Aang could have just been some elaborate trick to get closer to him so you can capture him later."

Zuko was silent for a long moment. "You don't need to worry, Katara," he said in a low voice that was almost as empty as his laugh. "There is no secret agenda. Not anymore." He turned his back on her. "I have no interest in the Avatar."

She sucked in a sharp breath, no doubt shocked by his statement. "Is that true?" she demanded.

"My sole purpose for capturing the Avatar was to return home." He bowed his head so that his expression was veiled in shadow. "There's not much point doing that when I have nothing to go back to."

Without waiting for a response, he quickened his pace and retreated into the rundown building. His own words replayed in his mind, a revelation that even he had not expected. Somehow, somewhere, he had given up on catching the Avatar.

He had given up on returning home.

Zuko leaned against the wall, letting his head rest against the wood with a dull thud. There was no relief in the realisation that he could stop hunting the Avatar. He didn't feel like a burden had been lifted or that he had been liberated from the chains of filial duty. If anything, he just felt empty.

Three years. Three years of hunting and searching and hoping. And now there was nothing.

Zuko had never felt more lost.

Maybe it was because there was a part of him that sensed the truth. He remembered reading a silly story once about a man named Bon who accidentally broke the Fire Lord's favourite vase. Bon, fearing for his life, had tried his best to put the shattered pieces of porcelain back together so that the Fire Lord would not notice. He even enlisted the help of famous artisans, but it was no use. The cracks, however minuscule, had still shown through in the repaired vase.

Right now, Zuko felt like that vase. Sure, he had pieced his memories back together, but he was not the same person who had first set out to capture the Avatar. Part of that was the Avatar's fault, always so desperate to be his friend; however, the real damage had been done when he'd got amnesia. Becoming Lee had broken him in a way that could not be repaired. Not perfectly. He had lost something integral in the process, something that had once kept his drive to capture the Avatar and return home a burning obsession. It was a sad, empty truth. Not even a decision, really. He'd just stopped believing in his own justifications that there was a reason for him to return. Confronting Azula had only aggravated the problem.

Zuko slid to the ground and buried his face against his knees. Everything just seemed to be spiralling further and further out of his control. He thought that getting his memories back would make his path clearer, but his future seemed murkier than ever. Even reuniting with his uncle had left him aching and confused. It seemed like no matter which way he turned, he just hit another wall.

What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to _do_?

There seemed to be no path he could take. He was trapped between his own fractured identities, wondering who he was supposed to be and where he was supposed to go. A banished prince, a sword-wielding vigilante, a boy named Lee. He had been all of these people, but none of them could show him the path to take now. They were just shadows from his past. What he needed was a way to move forward.

He clenched his hands into fists. "Damn it," he cursed softly.

He didn't know where to begin.

He was so, so tired.


	16. The 'Head On' Approach

Aang hugged his knees to his chest and looked out across the valley where he had been practicing earthbending with Toph. The whole morning had been one of failure after failure. Even now, he wasn't sure if he had what it took to be an earthbender.

_"There's no different angle, no clever solution, no trickity trick that's going to move that rock. You've got to face it head on."_

His heart clenched and he tightened his grip on his knees. It was strange. He knew Toph had just been giving him tips to earthbend, yet in that moment he had felt like she was talking about more than moving rocks. All of his current problems had started from a single weakness: he didn't like dealing with conflict. In fact, he didn't like confronting anything unpleasant, preferring to evade the issue altogether. He'd even run away from his Avatar responsibilities, upset at the thought of being forced to leave Monk Gyatso. That choice had resulted in him being frozen in an iceberg for a hundred years. In the end, he'd lost not only Gyatso but all of the Air Nomads.

Was the same thing about to happen with Zuko?

"There you are."

Aang glanced up and saw Katara approaching. His chest tightened. Their interactions had been a bit strained ever since he'd told her the truth about the Blue Spirit. Then he noticed the corners of her mouth were turned up a fraction and she was holding two peaches. Some of the tension eased from his body; that was not the expression of a person who was mad.

"Thought you might be hungry," she said, sitting down next to him and offering him one of the peaches.

Aang relaxed even more, reassured by the warmth in her voice. "Thanks."

He took the peach and bit into it. Sweet juices filled his mouth, but it still felt like he was chewing on fabric. He took another bite. Absent as the act of eating was, at least it gave him a distraction.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked after a moment.

"Sure."

"What made you forgive me?" He flushed and cast a panicked look at her face. "Uh, that is, if you have forgiven me."

A rueful smile curved her lips. "I don't know if I intended to do it. I guess it just happened."

His brow creased. "But why? I mean, I lied to you about the Blue Spirit's identity, and you were so angry before, but now you're just"—he made a vague gesture with his arms—"well, being nice to me again."

Katara frowned and rubbed her cheek. "I guess I just find it hard to stay mad at you."

Aang resisted the urge to pout. That wasn't going to help him. Zuko seemed to have a talent for staying grumpy with everyone. Katara must have sensed that he wasn't satisfied with her response, because she sighed and spread her hands in a helpless gesture.

"I don't know, Aang. You really did upset me when you kept the truth about Zuko from us for all that time. To be honest, I was furious. But you're still my friend. No matter how betrayed I felt, I guess I just couldn't keep holding it against you. That doesn't change the fact that what you did was wrong, but listening to you talk yesterday made me realise that you were also just scared and confused. I think in some twisted kind of way you thought you were doing the right thing by lying."

"I don't even know anymore," he admitted. "I was scared and I was confused. Zuko had lost his memories, and I had no idea if I would make things worse by telling him who he was, let alone how you and Sokka would react if you knew his identity." He sighed. "I really regret not being honest now."

"I know," she said softly. "Maybe that's why it was so easy for me to forgive you. I saw that you were hurting."

Aang's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, but that isn't going to help me with Zuko. He hates me more than ever. He won't even speak to me."

Katara made a thoughtful noise. "I spoke to him this morning. He seemed … different."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he said he had given up on capturing you."

Aang blinked. "He said that? But—but that was the only way he could go home. He told me so himself!"

She frowned. "He said that there was no point hunting you if there was no longer any reason for him to return home."

Aang chewed on his lip. Zuko had always been so adamant about returning to the Fire Nation. What could have happened to make him change his mind? Not that Aang could say he wasn't relieved—being hunted by the guy he wanted to be friends with wasn't exactly an ideal situation—but a part of him couldn't help feeling concerned all the same. Zuko didn't seem the type to just give up, even if he had realised that the Fire Nation was bad and that he shouldn't be listening to such a horrible Fire Lord.

"I don't get it," Aang said at last, "but if he's no longer trying to capture me, that can only be a good thing."

Katara nodded in agreement.

Aang suddenly grinned at her. "But that's great he talked to you. I mean, he normally never opens up about himself. Maybe he does still want to be our friend!" He paused, upturned lips drooping. "Well, you and Sokka's friend."

She scratched her cheek. "I don't know if I would have called that a friendly conversation. It was more awkward than anything."

"Yeah, but he still spoke to you. He just avoids me."

She sighed and straightened her shoulders, seeming to come to a decision. "If being Zuko's friend means that much to you then I think you know what you need to do."

As he stared into her eyes, he could hear Toph's voice echoing in his mind:

_"You've got to stop thinking like an airbender. There's no different angle, no clever solution, no trickity trick that's going to move that rock. You've got to face it head on."_

He let out a small breath. "I guess you're right."

Katara smiled and went back to eating her peach. He took another bite of his own and relaxed next to her, content to enjoy the silence now that all the tension was gone between them. Still, he knew he'd just got lucky with Katara. She had forgiven him with little effort on his part, but Zuko would not be the same. Aang had to find his courage. Somehow, he had to learn to face Zuko head on.

oOo

Zuko had spent most of the day walking around the outskirts of the abandoned town, mindful that he needed to be in the sun but still careful to avoid running into another human. He had wanted to be alone and think. Wandering the rocky ridges and valleys that surrounded Tu Zin had seemed like a good plan. His mind felt jumbled, and no amount of soul-searching seemed to clarify matters. He just didn't know what to do.

"Now I've gotcha!"

Zuko paused at the sound of the raised voice. That sounded like Sokka.

A lop-eared rabbit came darting out from behind the massive boulder in front of him, its eyes big and round with panic and its ears flopping everywhere. His brow creased. A split-second later something crashed into Zuko's back, shoving him off balance. He let out a grunt just as there was a sharp and far too familiar yelp in his ear. That idiot Sokka had run straight into him. Gravity kicked in with disastrous speed and the world tilted as both boys fell straight into a narrow crevice.

"You have got to be kidding me," Zuko muttered.

He wriggled and tried to twist free of the rock now encasing him, but it was like pushing against the teeth of a beast that didn't want to let go. Only his head and one hand had managed to stay out of the earth's clutches; however, the hand in question was so cramped up near his face that he could barely move it. Sokka hadn't fared much better. The boy had both hands free, also with limited movement, but was otherwise trapped from the neck down. Worse, he and Sokka were way too close. A whole side of their bodies were squashed up against each other like octo-sardines trying to cram into the same, tiny space. It was a level of snugness Zuko could have done without.

"There goes dinner," Sokka said mournfully, watching the lop-eared rabbit hop off into the distance.

"Are you serious? You just got us stuck in this stupid hunk of rock and you're still worrying about your dinner?"

"But it's meat!"

Zuko said, in a very impolite way that his mother would have frowned upon, exactly what Sokka could do with his meat. Instead of responding in kind, Sokka just heaved a big sigh and began trying to squeeze himself free. And tried. And tried. He sighed again and let his head slump.

"This sucks," Sokka declared.

"You think?"

Sokka pursed his lips. "There's no need to get snippy. It's not like I meant for us to get stuck in here. Besides, you were the one who got in my way."

"What? You ran into me!"

"I was hunting!"

"Then maybe you should have looked where you were going! Isn't that how hunting works? Or do you go around trying to catch things with your eyes closed?"

Sokka raised his chin. "I'll have you know that—"

"I don't care!" Zuko would have snarled flames if his bending was at its usual strength. "The fact is we're stuck in this hole now!"

Sokka had no response for that. There was a long, awkward pause as both boys avoided speaking or even looking at each other. Zuko glowered at the rocks while Sokka let out little sighs and continued to wriggle futilely.

"My toe is itchy," Sokka complained after a while.

Zuko said nothing.

"Man, now my leg is itchy."

A vein twitched on Zuko's forehead.

"Ugh, now my neck is—"

"Itchy!" Zuko swivelled his head to glare at him. "I get it! I think the whole world gets it that you're itchy!"

Sokka raised his eyebrows. "Sheesh. Someone's touchy today. Guess getting your memories back really did turn you into an angry jerk again."

Zuko closed his eyes in a pained manner. Spirits grant him patience.

There was another long pause.

"So, hey," Sokka said. "I've been wondering, do you still remember what you did and stuff while you were going around as Lee?"

"Why?"

"Just curious. You lost all your memories, right? I just wondered if it would do a clean slate thing when you got them back."

Zuko shook his head. "I remember everything."

A grin curved Sokka's mouth. "Excellent."

"Why is that excellent?"

The grin widened. "Because we both know I got you good with my boomerang." He let out a laugh. "Oh, and there was the time when Katara thought you were a waterbender and got you to try making water move. It's pretty funny when I think about it now. You were all—"

Zuko stretched to grab the loose pebble that was just within his reach. He threw it as hard as his cramped hand would allow. It bounced off Sokka's forehead with a thwack.

"Ow!" Sokka's grin vanished in an instant. "What was that for?"

"Because you're an idiot."

A cocky gleam entered Sokka's eyes. "Oh, I get it. You're just bitter because I got the better of you with boomerang."

"I'm really not."

"Sure, sure. Don't worry, not everyone has the skills to avoid my trusty boomerang."

Zuko gritted his teeth. "Let's get one thing straight: you might have taken me off guard with that weapon of yours, but whether I fight with my bending or not, you're still no match for me."

"Boastful much?"

"It's not boasting when it's the truth." Zuko raised his one good eyebrow. "Or have you forgotten how easily I bested you with my swords?"

"Hey, I was just a bit rusty then."

Zuko's expression did not change.

"Honest," Sokka insisted. "I'm normally much better than that."

Zuko sighed and looked the other way. Sokka was not content to let the matter drop and informed him that, regardless of how skilled Zuko thought he was with swords, there was no way he would win in a battle of wits. In Sokka's own words, Zuko was currently in the presence of a master of strategies.

"Great," Zuko said dryly. "Then strategize us a way out of this rock."

Sokka blinked and scratched his cheek. "Uh, right. Maybe we should call for help."

Zuko exhaled loudly. "We're going to be stuck here for hours, aren't we?"

"Hey, it's worth a shot! What else do you suggest we do?"

Since Zuko didn't have any other suggestions, he simply sighed again and began shouting for someone to come to their assistance. Sokka joined him, but the most they managed to do was attract a baby saber-tooth moose lion. Some of the colour drained from Zuko's face. "This isn't good," he muttered.

"Meat!" Sokka licked his lips. "Alright, you just wait till I get free, little guy. I'm going to make you dinner!"

Zuko eyed the small creature warily. "Pretty sure you don't want this meat, Sokka."

"Well, it is awfully cute, but meat is meat."

"The baby might be cute, but the mother is sure to be close, and I can tell you that she is anything but."

"What do you mean?"

"Think big, angry and likes to charge at you with massive horns."

Sokka gulped. "Oh. Yeah, that doesn't sound so cute."

The two boys exchanged a glance and began making motions with their cramped hands to shoo the baby saber-tooth moose lion away. Unfortunately, the creature seemed to take this all as a game and just wagged its tail happily. Then it came closer and started tugging on Sokka's ponytail.

"Hey, that's my hair!" Sokka complained.

Suddenly, a blur of orange came rushing towards them. When the wind settled, Aang was kneeling in front of the boys with an anxious expression on his face. The baby saber-tooth moose lion gave up on Sokka's hair and went to sniff the airbender.

"Are you guys alright?" Aang asked.

"Oh, yeah," Sokka said. "Just peachy."

Zuko averted his gaze while Aang tried to pull Sokka out from the crevice. Dealing with Sokka had been a test of patience at times, but just looking at the Avatar's childish face with the stupid arrow tattoo made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to deal with the conflicting feelings that rattled around inside him.

_This boy lied to you. He betrayed you._

The words echoed in Zuko's head, but there were others as well. Offers of friendship and shy smiles and a desperate plea for Zuko not to hate him. So confusing. So frustrating.

"I, I don't know if I can."

Aang's voice snapped Zuko from his thoughts. He gathered that Sokka had been trying to get Aang to earthbend them out of the rock since pulling had failed. Apparently, the little blind girl had been teaching the Avatar how to bend her element.

"If you can't earthbend us out of here then go get Toph," Sokka grumbled. "It shouldn't be a problem for her."

Aang cast a panicked glance at Zuko and then stared down at his feet, chewing on his bottom lip. He didn't get a chance to respond, though. A thudding of hooves from behind alerted them to the presence of the baby saber-tooth moose lion's mother. The beast snorted and pawed at the ground, mouth curling to reveal large teeth that could easily snap a human in two.

"You're right, Zuko," Sokka said with a faint tremble. "Mama is not so cute." His gaze darted to Aang. "Now would be a good time to get us out of here."

In typical Aang fashion, he tried to talk with the mother and claimed they were friendly. Too bad the saber-tooth moose lion decided that was her cue to charge. All Zuko and Sokka could do was watch as the airbender was forced to protect them from being crushed to death. It was humiliating but also kind of terrifying. There was a point where Zuko was sure they were going to get trampled, but Aang, for once, stood his ground and blasted the giant creature back with a huge gust of wind. The saber-tooth moose lion skulked away with its baby.

Someone began a slow clap. Zuko turned his head to see Toph lounging on a boulder with what looked like Aang's staff. It turned out the little brat had been there the whole time. When Aang demanded to know why she hadn't helped, she shrugged and said it hadn't occurred to her before proceeding to try cracking a nut open with his staff. The fact she then taunted Aang into earthbending didn't mean much either.

Zuko held back a sigh. "Would you just get us out of here already, earthbender?"

Her head whipped towards him. "Who're you calling 'earthbender', Moody Pants?"

"Moody—what?"

Toph ignored his interjection and thumped her hand against her chest. "The name's Toph, and don't you forget it."

Zuko rolled his eyes. Fortunately, Toph didn't expect a reply. She stomped her foot against the ground and forced them both with her bending to come up from the crevice. Zuko, while covered in scrapes and aching in a way that suggested he would have a lot of bruises, was otherwise unscathed. Sokka was not so lucky. He put his weight on his left foot and crumpled.

"I think I sprained my ankle," Sokka groaned.

Aang smiled and helped him to stand. "Katara can probably help with that. Let's head back."

The four made their way towards the village and all the dusty streets and broken-down houses. Eventually, they found Katara talking with Iroh as the two of them prepared what Zuko assumed would be tonight's dinner. There was a pot of rice bubbling away and Iroh was slicing a stack of fruit into fine quarters with a knife. Katara noticed them first and took one look at Sokka, who was limping and struggling to stay on his feet even with Aang's support, and then she was on her feet and running to pull her brother into a tight hug.

"You're hurt!" she exclaimed, holding him even closer. "What happened?"

Zuko's heart gave an odd twist, like a phantom echo of a wound he had never known existed. He averted his gaze from the siblings, finding it difficult to watch them show such open affection for each other. It was a painful reminder of how his own sister had done nothing but seek to hurt him, even kill him. Azula would never try to be close to him like that.

_"It's okay to be scared, Azula."_

_"I'm not scared. I just can't sleep with all of this stupid thunder making so much noise, and if I have to stay awake then so do you."_

_He smiled and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a loose embrace. She hesitated only a moment before leaning into him, trying not to flinch when another rumble of thunder shook the palace walls._

_"I'm not scared," she repeated fiercely._

_"I know," he murmured, resting his head against hers. "I just figured you might be cold."_

_She hid her face against his shoulder. "Dum-Dum."_

_He didn't need to see her expression to know she was smiling._

Zuko winced as pain lanced through his mind. No! He didn't want this memory! He didn't want to remember those feelings of brotherly fondness. Azula had hurt him. She had hurt him and hurt him and hurt him, and he couldn't—

A hand gripped his shoulder, anchoring him back to reality. "Nephew?"

Zuko's vision cleared into dizzying focus. Iroh was staring at him in concern, puzzled as to why he had started showing signs of distress.

Zuko exhaled a bit shakily and stepped away. "I—it's nothing," he stammered. "I just—"

"Hey, Katara, look what I can do!"

Zuko and Iroh both turned as Aang shoved his arms forward in a fierce gesture, causing a large rock formation to break in half.

"You did it!" Katara said proudly. "I knew you would!"

Aang blushed and rubbed the base of his neck. Zuko didn't understand why the Avatar kept glancing his way with a shy smile as if there was some special significance to the fact that he had finally managed to earthbend. Did he expect a round of applause or something? Whatever.

Zuko walked away from the group. "I'm going back to the house."

"Wait."

Iroh's hand once more gripped his shoulder, turning him back around so that he had no choice but to look at his uncle.

"Zuko, please tell me what's wrong," Iroh said, soft enough so that only he could hear. "I can see that you're hurting, and though I swore to myself that I would let you figure out what you wanted to do on your own, I can't just stand by idly and watch you suffer either." His grip tightened. "Please, let me help you. You don't have to carry all of these burdens on your own."

Zuko slipped free of the warm grip that promised so much comfort yet only seemed to hurt him even more. "It's nothing," he said in a hollow voice. "Forget about it."

"Was it the memories again?"

Zuko stilled.

"You said you get sharp pains when a memory resurfaces, and I noticed you were clutching your head before." Iroh moved closer. "Zuko, there is a waterbending master right there. We could ask her to—"

"No!"

The word was wrenched out of Zuko before he could stop it. Iroh blinked, shocked by the vehemence of the response.

"I ... I mean ..." Zuko swallowed against the building pressure in his chest. "I already have the important memories now. I know who I am, and I know about my past, so it's not like it really matters anymore if there are a few still missing."

Iroh gave him a shrewd look. "Is that really what you think?"

Yes. No. Zuko didn't know. All he knew was that he could taste the panic on his tongue, reminding him of what he had glimpsed only a few minutes ago: Azula as a young girl crawling up onto his bed and letting him comfort her with a hug because she was scared of the thunder. The one thing that could hurt him more than her lies or the wounds she had inflicted upon him ever could, because it was undeniable proof that she had cared.

That he had cared. Maybe still did.

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. "I just want to be alone," he muttered.

Iroh looked like he was going to protest, but Zuko didn't wait around to listen. He hurried away as fast as his legs could carry him, only slowing his pace once he got back to the abandoned house where he had first awoken. He walked inside and sat on the blankets, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. No relief. No comfort. Still just that desperate question echoing over and over in his mind: what was he supposed to do?

_Never give up without a fight._

Zuko bowed his head almost in resignation. Maybe that was the problem. It wasn't in his nature to run, but he knew, deep down, that he had been running. Running from his memories, running from his uncle, running from the Avatar.

Running from anything that could hurt him.

_"It's okay to be scared, Azula."_

He closed his eyes. The memory replayed in his mind, so wounding in its innocence. There was a part of him that still wished he could erase it entirely. He wouldn't have to hurt so much then. He'd be able to move on with his life. However, he had also realised that the more he tried to block those tender images, the more that horrible emptiness seemed to grow inside him, gnawing away at his heart like some all-consuming black hole. What if the emptiness never stopped? Would he lose himself entirely? Would he stay like the Fire Lord's vase: just a broken shell of what he used to be?

A soft knock shattered him from his brooding.

"Go away, Uncle!" Zuko growled, clutching his knees to his chest and looking the other way.

"Um, it's me."

The shy, hesitant voice made Zuko repress a sigh. Didn't that kid ever just drop it?

"What do you want, Avatar?"

Zuko had meant the question to come out as a brusque demand. Instead, his tone just sounded tired. Tired and lost. Aang stepped into the house. The creaking of the floorboards told him that Aang had come to sit next to him. A glance to the side confirmed his suspicions. The Avatar sat cross-legged, not facing him directly; instead, the two of them sat side-by-side, each staring down at their hands.

"Katara told me that you don't want to capture me anymore," Aang said after a moment.

Zuko remained silent. He did not want to be having this conversation.

"I don't know why you changed your mind, but I guess ... well, I guess I just wanted to say thanks. I know how much you wanted to go home."

A lump formed in Zuko's throat. He swallowed and closed his eyes. There was a long silence that followed, which neither of them tried to fill. Zuko wished the boy would just go away.

"Listen, Zuko, I—"

"Enough," he said softly, though his voice sounded a bit hoarse.

"But—"

"I've told you countless times that I don't want to speak to you, yet you just keep coming back." Zuko raised his head and glared at him. "Can't you see that I want nothing to do with you?"

Aang gave a sad smile. "I know you don't. I know you hate me and probably wish I was far away from you." He sighed and glanced back at his hands. "Who could blame you? I lied and tried to keep your identity from you because I was scared. I used the spirits and the power of the Avatar State to kill your people in the North Pole even though there was no way they could have defended themselves." His mouth trembled. "You were right. I acted like a monster that night, and I hate it. I hate thinking about it and all the other selfish, stupid things I've done, but don't you see? I can't change any of that now. Even if I wanted to, I can't take it back."

"So what? You think I should just forgive you? You think because of this stupid connection you seem to believe we have that you can just apologise and it's all okay?"

He had not forgotten what his uncle had said. The Avatar thought they had a spiritual connection. Somehow, that was even more frustrating. Didn't anyone understand that he wanted nothing to do with the kid?

"I just want you to give me a chance," Aang said earnestly. "That's all I'm asking for. Just a chance to prove that I can be a better Avatar, but also a better friend."

"I don't want to be your friend."

The words sounded petty even to Zuko's ears, but Aang just smiled that sad, little smile.

"I know," he acknowledged, "but I really do want to be your friend. At least if you'll let me."

Zuko said nothing.

Aang must have sensed that he wasn't going to get anything more out of him because he got back to his feet. "I'm not going to push you. It's your choice to forgive me or not, but I hope you know that I do regret what I did." He shifted on his feet and rubbed the base of his neck. "And, um, well, if you and your uncle need a ride anywhere, you know that there's always room for you on Appa."

Having said his piece, Aang bowed deeply and then flashed one last smile before leaving the house. Zuko stared at the doorway with a conflicted expression on his face. It was a long time before he moved.

* * *

I realise that Sokka met Foo Foo Cuddly-Poops in a different area than what I have written here, but I figured it was still close enough to Tu Zin village, and I just really wanted to feature Zuko and Sokka stuck together in this chapter ('cause omg this story has been lacking the funnies of late and I'm going into humour withdrawals).


	17. Decision

"Do you think Zuko will come out soon?" Aang asked, glancing in the direction of the abandoned house.

There was a collective sigh from Katara and Sokka. This wasn't the first time he had asked the question. Toph just rolled her eyes and stuffed rice into her mouth. It seemed she was not going to acknowledge Aang with a response. Not that it would have helped him much if she had. The earthbender was a fan of "tough love" and would have been more likely to tell him to suck it up and to stop being such a baby than to offer any comfort.

Katara removed her glowing hands from Sokka's ankle. She bent the water back into her flask and turned to face Aang. "You're the one who said you couldn't force Zuko to be your friend. Just be patient."

"Yeah, but—"

"Look, Aang," Sokka said, even as he wiggled his ankle around to test for any lingering pain. Satisfied that Katara really had healed the sprain, he put his foot down and gave Aang his full attention. "If Prince Broody Pants wants to shut himself up in that house all broodily, then let him. You've said your piece, right? Then there's nothing more you can do." He raised his finger to the air like some great philosopher. "Besides, if there's one thing I've learnt while hunting, it's that you don't want to jump the paddle to catch your prey. You've got to be smart and give them enough space to lull them into a false sense of security so they'll lower their guard. That's when you can make your move."

Aang's brow creased. "I'm just trying to be his friend, Sokka. It's not like I want to trap Zuko in a cage and poke him with pointy sticks."

Katara placed her palm against her forehead. "Honestly, Sokka."

"Hey!" Sokka said, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm just saying that Aang shouldn't rush the guy. Look, I might not trust Zuko, but he still helped us out when he travelled with us as Lee, and it's obvious he's dealing with a lot of baggage." A shrug. "If Zuko wants to be alone, let him. You'll only make things worse if you keep prodding and pushing."

Aang stared at the half-finished bowl of rice on his lap. "I guess."

"Sokka is right," a deep voice said from behind Aang.

Aang stood up, almost dropping the bowl. "General Iroh!"

"Just Iroh is fine." He held up a steaming teapot. "I thought I'd make us some tea."

Aang bit his lip. He didn't care about tea just then; he wanted to know what Iroh had meant, but Iroh was already unearthing five wooden cups and pouring tea for each of them, refusing to be rushed. This was a man who went at his own pace. For Aang, it was like being stuck with the monks all over again: same aura of wisdom, same lamentable need to focus on (what Aang deemed) mundane tasks when there were other, more important things to worry about. It hurt—in a dull, aching kind of way—because all of the Air Nomads were dead, but it was also calming. Aang found himself instinctively responding to the familiar presence. He lost some of the tension in his muscles, and he even managed to accept his own cup of tea with a murmured thanks.

"You're welcome," Iroh said, and then settled down on the ground next to Toph. "Now then, what has my nephew done to get you so worried?"

Aang frowned and recounted the conversation he'd had with Zuko. It was rather convoluted, for Aang had a tendency to ramble, but Iroh still managed to get the gist of what had happened. Namely, that Aang had apologised and once more offered friendship, but that he had been swiftly rebuffed.

"I just don't know if he's ever going to forgive me," Aang said fretfully. "I mean, I want to believe that we can be friends, but Zuko just gets angry at me all the time. Like, all the time." He sighed and let his shoulders slump. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Iroh stroked his beard. "I don't know if you are doing anything wrong."

"What?" Aang blinked a few times. "But Zuko always gets grumpy at me when I try to approach him and—"

"Avatar Aang," Iroh said gently, "it is not hate that makes my nephew lash out at you. In fact, it's quite the opposite."

Aang's eyes widened. "Really? But how do you know?"

Iroh's mouth curved into a sad smile. "Because he has been doing the same thing to me for three years."

There was a pause as the four members of Iroh's audience digested this information.

"What a brat," Toph said bluntly.

"Perhaps," Iroh admitted, "but a wounded lion-pup will often bite the hand that tries to show it kindness."

Aang scratched his cheek. "Um, I'm not sure I follow."

The wrinkles on Iroh's face seemed to deepen like the gnarled grooves of a tree. "My nephew has been grossly mistreated. Worse, he was hurt by those who should have cared for him most." Iroh shook his head, more self-deprecating than apologetic. "I'm ashamed to admit I did not notice until it was too late. Zuko had always been such a sweet, loyal child, but then Ozai ..."

There was a pause as Iroh struggled to articulate his thoughts. His eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened around the cup in his hands. Aang could have sworn he saw smoke rise from the wood.

"What did the Fire Lord do?" Katara asked in a hushed voice.

Iroh blinked out of whatever nightmarish memory had held him captive, though a sorrowful gleam remained in his eyes. "Let's just say that I will never forgive my brother for what he did to Zuko on that day. It was an act of the deepest cruelty, and it wounded Zuko in more ways than one."

No one seemed to know what to say after that. Aang just felt sad. He wanted to go right back into the house and give the prince a big hug. Hugs made everyone feel better, but Zuko was a prickly cactus who would probably just push him away again. It was frustrating. All Aang wanted was to be Zuko's friend. He didn't understand why Zuko had to be so stubborn. Iroh must have sensed his thoughts, because he reached out and placed his hand on Aang's shoulder.

"There is a reason why I'm telling you this, young Avatar," Iroh said. "You need to understand that Zuko has grown up in an environment where it was not safe for him to express his rage or his pain. The fact that he does open up to you, however harshly, suggests that he feels more positively towards you than you might think. You could almost call it an act of trust."

"An act of trust?" Aang scrunched his nose. "I dunno. I mean, I did lie to him, and he definitely wasn't happy with me when I fused with the Ocean Spirit. I don't think he trusts me much at all."

"This is a different kind of trust," Iroh explained, removing his hand from Aang's shoulder. "Yes, you've lied to him and have given him genuine cause to be upset with you, but you have also apologised for those actions and have tried to befriend him not once but several times. These continuous acts to reach out to him are the key. It is very common for those in his situation to lash out at those who are kind to them rather than the ones who actually hurt them. This is because, on a subconscious level, they feel safe in knowing that the recipient of their anger will not punish or abandon them." Iroh gave a rueful smile. "Though I admit it is not always an easy honour to bear."

Sokka leaned forward. "So, you're saying that Zuko turns into a big jerk around Aang because he actually trusts the little guy in some weird kind of way?"

"Whether Zuko wants to admit it or not, young Avatar, he feels safe with you. I don't know how you managed to convince him thus, but believe me when I say that my nephew would not have opened up to you as he has done if he truly hated you."

Aang let out a small breath. Zuko felt safe with him? Then it really wasn't hate that made him lash out? A smile crept across Aang's face, though it faded a second later. For all that it was nice to know that Zuko didn't actually want to burn him to a crisp, that didn't change the fact that Zuko was unhappy. A wounded lion-pup, Iroh had called him. Someone who didn't know how to express his pain in a healthy way or even ask for comfort.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Aang asked, tightening his grip on the cooling tea cup. "I mean, is Zuko always going to be like this?"

Iroh sighed and stared in the direction of the abandoned house. "I wish I could say. His anger is real, as is the hurt that has caused him to become so shut off from others. You will have to be patient if you want him to respond positively to you again." Iroh glanced back at Aang, and a warm smile touched his lips. "But I hope that you will keep trying. My nephew is very lucky to have made a friend like you."

Aang rubbed the base of his neck. "I just did what I wanted to do."

"I know," Iroh said. "That's why he's lucky."

Aang frowned, saddened by the comment that should have been a compliment. It sounded like Zuko had never got much support from others before. That just made Aang feel even worse for lying when Zuko had amnesia. He'd been so selfish, thinking only of himself instead of Zuko's feelings. Even the girls were subdued. Katara clutched her pendant and stared at the flames with a distant expression on her face, while Toph just sat a bit awkwardly as if she had stumbled into something private that she hadn't wanted to witness and now wasn't sure what to do with the information.

"Aang," Sokka said in a grim voice, "what will you do if Zuko doesn't want to come with us?"

There was a tense silence as the full magnitude of those words settled over the group. Aang was the Avatar. He couldn't afford to delay his mission, not even to win over a stubborn prince, or at least that seemed to be what Sokka was implying. No doubt the others felt the same. The thought was heartbreaking.

"I'll try speaking to him," Iroh offered, perhaps sensing Aang's distress. "It wouldn't be wise for any of us to linger in this area with Princess Azula so close. I'm sure I can get Zuko to see reason."

Aang managed a smile. "Thank you."

oOo

It was dark in the abandoned house. Zuko sat hunched on the ground, legs pulled against his chest. He couldn't even conjure a flame to give himself light. His bending was weak and fragile, barely able to produce sparks. The healing ability that had saved two people's lives was indeed a double-edged sword. Rare and dangerous, his uncle had called it. Not that Zuko regretted healing his uncle; he didn't even regret healing the Avatar. He just regretted that it had come to this.

There he was, a prince, hiding in a rundown house in some abandoned Earth Kingdom village, just like some vagabond.

He was so pathetic.

There was a knock at the door. Zuko frowned at the battered screen. His eyes narrowed as another knock followed. If that little bald kid was back again ...

"Nephew."

Something got lodged in Zuko's throat. He swallowed and shifted into a more dignified position, not surprised when his uncle entered the room without being invited. Iroh had always disregarded those courtesies when they had travelled together on the ship.

"I brought you some tea," Iroh said by way of greeting, then frowned. "Well, perhaps we should have some light first, hrm?"

He placed the teapot and cups on the ground and created a ball of fire. The flames hovered above his palm for a moment before he used his bending to guide the ball to the fire pit where it took root in the partially charred wood that had been left over from the previous night. The fire grew and burned in orange flickers, lighting the room with a soft glow. Iroh smiled in satisfaction and knelt to pick up the teapot and one of the cups.

"I don't want any tea," Zuko mumbled, averting his face so that he was staring at the wall.

"Are you sure? It's ginseng."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "That's _your_ favourite, Uncle. I don't care what flavour it is."

Iroh chuckled. "So it is, but perhaps you can humour an old man and drink it anyway. You never know, it might actually make you feel better. Clear some of those cobwebs in your mind."

Zuko muttered something about "cobwebs" and "stupid old man", but he still accepted the cup. There were some battles that weren't worth fighting. Refusing his uncle's favourite blend of tea was one of them. Besides, there was a small part of him—just a tiny part—that wanted to drink tea with his uncle and pretend that everything was okay. It would be just like it was when they had travelled together with rest of the crew, back when the ship had still sailed and there were no icy prisons to tear them apart.

Iroh sat opposite Zuko and settled into a cross-legged position. He took his time as he poured himself a fresh cup of tea and tasted a small sip. "Ah," he said, closing his eyes. "That is good tea."

Zuko said nothing. He just frowned at the cup in his hands, watching the steam rise in a spiralling, hot mist. He regretted accepting the tea now. His heart felt heavy and like it had sunk somewhere into the emptiness that gnawed at his insides. Sitting here like this was just making him feel worse. It was a reminder of how much had changed since his ship had been destroyed. Even drinking tea with his uncle left a bitter taste as if he were sipping liquid-flavoured ashes instead of herbs.

"I heard that you have stopped hunting the Avatar."

The words were spoken in a neutral voice, but they pierced Zuko to the core, stirring up the hurt and anger that festered under the surface of his deadened emotions. So, his uncle and the others had been talking about him.

"Well, it's nice to know you're all getting along so well," Zuko said, placing his tea aside. He didn't even want to look at the cup now. "Did you discuss anything else or were you too busy having a nice gossip session about me?"

Iroh frowned and placed his cup on the floor. "They're just worried about you. The Avatar especially."

Zuko tensed. He was well aware of how the Avatar felt about him. It was the reason he felt so upside down and conflicted whenever he saw the kid.

"I'm worried about you as well," Iroh said gently. "You've been so distant, always shutting yourself away and going off on your own. It took speaking to those children to learn that you'd chosen not to capture the Avatar, and while I will naturally support you in that decision, I can also see that you are far from happy." He reached out and placed his hand on Zuko's knee. "Please, tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Zuko withdrew his leg from the warm touch. "There's nothing to talk about."

Iroh didn't look pleased by the response. If anything, the creases of worry had only deepened on his brow. "Forgive me, Nephew, but I think there is a lot we need to talk about. You spent three years chasing the Avatar because you wanted to return home. Whatever it was that changed your mind is obviously upsetting you. Add in the fact that you're still recovering from amnesia and the draining effects of your healing abilities, and it's no wonder you're struggling."

"I'm fine. I'm just tired and—"

"Zuko, please stop lying to me."

The words were spoken gently yet firmly. Zuko bowed his head, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat.

"I'm not such an old fool that I can't see when my nephew is hurting. I meant what I said earlier: I will not stand by idly and let you suffer." He placed his hand against Zuko's cheek, raising his chin so that their eyes met. "Please, don't make this harder for yourself. I am here for you. Lean on me. Let me share your burdens." A tender smile. "There is no shame in admitting you need help."

For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Zuko inhaled a shaky breath and pulled away. He stood up and turned his back on his uncle, closing himself off like a hermit crab retreating into its shell. "I want to be alone."

The words were barely audible. Iroh seemed to take the muted tone as a sign that it was okay to ignore the request, because he got to his feet and reached out to touch Zuko's arm. "Nephew, you don't have to keep pushing me away. I'm telling you that I can help you. Why do you insist on being so stubborn?"

Zuko closed his eyes. He couldn't handle this right now. Not when everything about the situation was just reminding him that his uncle had not been there for him.

"Zuko—"

"What do you want me to say?" he growled, swinging back to face the older man. "You were the one who left me at the Northern Water Tribe! I was threatened and hurt and left to rot in that prison of ice, and the only reason I got free was because a waterbender took pity on me!"

A deadly hush. Iroh looked as if he had been slapped. Not that Zuko got any satisfaction from the expression. All he could do was let out a trembling breath, his chest tight and his throat burning.

"You just left me," Zuko repeated, balling his hands into fists and feeling something hot prickle in the corner of his eyes. "You promised that you would always be there, and you just left. Just like"—his voice cracked—"just like Mum."

Iroh took one look at those over-bright eyes and pulled Zuko tightly into his arms. Zuko tried to break free, but it was like the arms that held him had become bars of iron. He could not break free of that hold; he wasn't even sure if he really wanted to break free. The scent of herbs that always seemed to linger around his uncle was so familiar, so soothing. Memories of happier times washed over him: drinking tea on a rusty old ship, bickering—so much bickering—but also laughter. They had spent three years together on that boat, and though his uncle had aggravated him with all his trivial talk and nagging, Zuko had also seen the old man as the only constant thing in his upside-down life. Everything else had changed, but his uncle had still been there.

And then he suddenly wasn't.

"Why did you leave?" Zuko choked out, burying his face into Iroh's shoulder. "Why does everyone always have to leave?"

Iroh's arms tightened around him. "Zuko."

That one word, uttered almost as a sigh, was the undoing of him. Something wet trailed down his cheeks, followed by another and another. He clutched at his uncle's tunic and trembled with suppressed sobs, trying so desperately to be strong, yet unable to stop the tears from flowing. His chest burned, his throat burned, everything was burning. He couldn't stop. The tears kept on coming, and his body shuddered, and he just couldn't stop crying. He couldn't even remember the last time he had cried like this. It was like a dam had been broken, letting all the hurt and feelings of abandonment gush out in a big, ugly mess.

"Shh," Iroh said, rubbing gentle circles on his back with his hand. "It's okay, Zuko. Just let it out."

Zuko shook his head, still keeping his face hidden against his uncle's tunic. He wanted to tell Iroh that it wasn't okay, because everything was so messed up now and he shouldn't be showing such weakness, but all that came out was a half-choked sob. Iroh's only response was to clutch him tighter.

"Don't be afraid to cry," Iroh murmured in his ear. "Even the greatest of warriors must shed tears in time of pain."

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, letting fresh tears roll down his cheeks. "I looked everywhere for you," he said in a small voice—a voice so small and vulnerable that it barely sounded like him.

"I know," Iroh said soothingly, still rubbing circles on his back. "I'm sorry I made you wait. I came as fast as I could."

That did it. If the dam had been broken before, it was an overflow of emotion now. Zuko dug his fingers into the coarse fabric of his uncle's tunic, crying openly as feelings he had suppressed for too long forced their way out of his body. Somehow, the two of them ended up kneeling on the ground while Iroh just held him, telling him over and over that it was going to be alright. Everything was going to fine.

"You don't have to be alone anymore," Iroh said, cradling him against his chest. "I'm here for you now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Zuko hiccupped on a sob. "How can I trust you? Everyone always leaves me."

"But I won't," Iroh repeated firmly. "I told you once before that I think of you as my own son. That hasn't changed, Zuko."

Zuko raised his head to stare at his uncle through tear-blurred eyes. There was no lie in the warm smile that curved his uncle's lips, nor was there any hint of deception in that loving gaze. His uncle cared for him like a son. With utter sincerity, Iroh had promised that he would not abandon him again. Such a declaration could not erase the weeks that Zuko had spent stumbling on his own, helpless and wounded, but it did ease some of the hurt in his chest. It did push back some of that gnawing emptiness.

Well, it was a start.

Zuko closed his eyes and relaxed into his uncle's embrace. Maybe he was being weak. Maybe it was foolish to even dare to hope that he could trust this man again. Zuko couldn't bring himself to care. He was tired and drained so terribly sick of struggling on his own. In that moment, he just wanted to forget.

He just wanted to believe.

oOo

The tears had completely dried on Zuko's face by the time Iroh left the abandoned house. His uncle had been intuitive enough to understand that Zuko needed time to digest all they had discussed, and there was indeed much to think about.

Iroh had waited until Zuko had calmed down before broaching the topic of what they were going to do next. He'd pointed out that they couldn't stay in Tu Zin with Azula and her forces nearby, and it seemed that the ostrich horse that Zuko had been riding had fled during the battle with Azula. No wonder he had been unable to find it when he'd explored the village.

Zuko frowned and rested his chin on his knees. He still felt a bit sad to think that the ostrich horse had vanished. The feathered creature had been his only companion for quite some time after he'd left the Avatar's group, and though he'd never given it a name, he'd still liked the animal. He hoped that the ostrich horse found a new owner or a nice place to live. Perhaps it would even return to the crazy cabbage merchant.

In any case, the loss of the ostrich horse now left him and his uncle with no means of transportation aside from their own two legs. Zuko had not wanted to consider the offer the Avatar had shyly given him, but his uncle had made it quite clear that it would be foolish to dismiss the use of the air bison. The Earth Kingdom was huge, and the most important thing for the two of them right now was to get somewhere safe and far away from Azula. They could figure out a more specific plan after that. Even Zuko couldn't argue with the logic, knowing that neither he nor his uncle were in any condition to be fighting. Zuko couldn't bend, and Iroh was still recovering from his lightning injury.

That was the other issue troubling Zuko: his healing abilities and the effects it had on his chi. He'd learnt that people like him had used to be called the Children of the Undying Fire. Unfortunately, the only other information Zuko had got was that his powers were rare and dangerous and that the Fire Nation had tried to wipe out all of the fire healers. It was frustrating. Zuko wished he could learn more or at least figure out a way to control the ability. He didn't like to think about what would happen if he accidentally triggered his healing powers again. He'd already had two close calls.

"Maybe there is a way," he murmured.

The world was vast. Surely there had to be another bender like him out there somewhere or at least some kind of record to help him understand his strange abilities.

He sighed and left the house, walking towards the campfire where the others had gathered. Iroh served a fresh batch of tea and chatted to Toph while Katara sat sipping her own tea with a pensive expression. Sokka had his head buried in a map, and Aang was leaning against Appa and playing with Momo, making bits of leaves and dust dance in the wind for the lemur to catch. It was the kind of scene that had been normal for Zuko when he had travelled with the group as Lee.

Aang perked up as soon as he noticed him. "Zuko!" he exclaimed, letting the leaves fall to the ground and bolting to his feet. "How are you feeling? Your uncle said we shouldn't bother you for a while, but I thought you looked kind of upset when I was talking to you earlier, and then you didn't make a sound or come out of the house for so long after Iroh went to see you, and then I got worried and started to think that maybe you had left again and—"

"Aang," Sokka said, raising his head from the map. "Breathe."

Aang rubbed the base of his neck, looking a bit pink. "Uh, yeah. Sorry about that." He gave a sheepish grin. "I guess I got a little carried away."

"A little?" Toph said with a snort.

Aang's blush deepened, but he ignored her taunt and turned back to Zuko. "So, um, did you want anything to eat? Katara made rice and, uh, I think we have some fruit somewhere…"

Zuko just stared at Aang for a second, caught off guard by the bombardment of cheeriness and concern. It was a bit much to deal with after the emotionally draining conversation he'd had with his uncle. Perhaps that was why he didn't respond in his usual contrary or dismissive way. Instead, he just shook his head.

"I'm not hun—" he began, only to fall silent when a bowl of rice was shoved into his hands. He blinked and glanced down to see Katara standing next to him, not quite meeting his gaze.

"You should eat something," she said, still looking anywhere but at his face. "You've barely eaten a thing today."

Zuko didn't have the heart to refuse her when she was using her "Mum" voice; it was a reminder of all the times she had tried to mother him and the group when he'd travelled with them as Lee. Plus, he really was too tired to put up a fight. So, instead of repeating that he wasn't hungry, he just nodded and accepted the bowl with a murmured thanks. Katara moved back to her seat without a word, though he noticed that she kept shooting him sidelong glances. In fact, all of the little group were giving him weird looks.

"What?" he demanded after the sixth time he caught Aang staring at him.

Aang blushed again and rubbed his bald head. "Um, well, we were just wondering if you had decided what you're going to do next. Sokka and your uncle both agree that we shouldn't stay in this village another night, 'cause your sister and those girls are still out there and—"

Zuko sighed as he realised this was going to be another convoluted speech. "Yes."

Aang blinked. "Uh, yes?"

"Yes, my uncle and I will take you up on your offer." Zuko gave Aang a warning glare. "Just for practical reasons, of course. Don't go getting any ideas that this means I want to be your friend."

Aang nodded and promised that he would be on his best behaviour, but the jaw-splitting grin that stretched across his face belied his words. Zuko would have been more bothered by his enthusiasm had Uncle not chosen that moment to speak.

"I'm glad you were able to put your pride behind you, Nephew," Iroh said in a soft voice so that only Zuko could hear. "You've made the right decision. We'll be able to get to a safer area much faster using the Avatar's air bison."

Zuko just made a noncommittal sound. His thoughts had turned to more pressing matters. He stirred the rice around in his bowl with his chopsticks, his gaze distant and a frown tugging at his lips. "Uncle, you said you'd help me learn more about my healing abilities, right?"

"Of course."

"Then do you have any idea where we could start?"

Iroh stroked his beard. "The only records I've seen about the Children of the Undying Fire were the ones I found in the palace archives, and I've already told you all the information I got from those." He thought to himself for a moment and then his eyes brightened as if he'd just had an epiphany. "There is one place that might be able to help us learn more about your abilities."

Zuko leaned forward, oblivious to the four pairs of ears that were now listening in on the conversation. "Where?"

"A library found in the Si Wong Desert." Some of the glow faded from Iroh's eyes. "I went there once after Lu Ten ..." He swallowed, not quite able to hide the flicker of pain that flashed across his expression. "Well, that doesn't matter now. What matters is that the library is full of ancient records that have been collected from all over the world. There is a good chance that we will be able to find something about the Children of the Undying Fire if we go there."

Sokka thrust his head between Iroh and Zuko, planting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Did you say a library that stores lots of ancient records?"

Zuko's mouth twisted into a scowl. "Do you mind? This was a private conversation."

"And now it's not," Sokka said before turning to Iroh with a grin. "So, the library?"

Iroh chuckled. "Very well, I shall share with you what I know. It's the least I can do in return for the assistance you and your friends have given us during these past two days."

Zuko's scowl became even more pronounced. Exhausted or not, he did not like to be dismissed. He definitely did not like to have his conversations interrupted by presumptuous Water Tribe boys. Zuko opened his mouth to say as much, but then Momo chose that moment to come and land on his shoulder, chittering happily and offering him a half-bitten piece of fruit. A reluctant smile curved his lips. It was difficult to stay angry when confronted with those big, round eyes.

"Hey there, little guy," he murmured, giving Momo a pat on his fuzzy head. "You can keep your fruit. I've got plenty of rice."

Momo gave a lemur-like shrug and stuffed the rest of the fruit piece into his mouth. Zuko just shook his head in amusement and turned back to his uncle, listening as the old man told the tale of Wan Shi Tong's library and the Knowledge Seekers. It was a fantastical legend, but then Zuko had seen some rather fantastical things during his sixteen years of life. In truth, he didn't care if the library had been originally built in the Spirit World or not; he just hoped that it would give him the knowledge that he sought.

The Children of the Undying Fire. He needed to know what it meant. No matter what, he would uncover the truth.


	18. The Library

The bird had a death sentence. Mai narrowed her eyes at her "companion", which had been twittering and fluttering around her like some chirpy little shadow ever since she had freed it from the vines in which it had got tangled. This was why she hated acting on impulse. One moment of compassion and this was what she got for it: an irritating follower that wouldn't shut up.

Mai directed her best glare at the little creature. "Go away."

The bird tilted its head and twittered something as if to ask why Mai was getting upset when they were having such a wonderful time together. Mai was reminded forcibly of Ty Lee. The realisation made her sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb. There was something wrong with her if she had started comparing birds to her best friend. Although, the two did have the same obnoxious cheerfulness even in the face of a rising temper.

"Just because you remind me of Ty Lee does not mean I will go easy on you," Mai told the bird flatly. "I will turn you into a pin cushion if you keep following me."

The bird did not seem bothered by her threat. It fluttered and twittered and hopped alongside Mai like a rabaroo with wings. She wasn't even sure what kind of bird it was. The thing itself was about the same size as a sparrowkeet. It had the usual claws and wings seen among its kind, but its plumage was a mixture of snowy white and dusky pink with a curling, silvery crown on its head. She supposed it was kind of pretty for a bird. Not that she would admit as much aloud. She wasn't some silly girl who cooed over feathers and colours.

"Should have left you in the vines," Mai muttered.

Her new friend responded to that barb by fluttering into the air, albeit a bit haphazardly, and landed on her shoulder. Mai glared at the bird. The bird just chirped and nuzzled her chin in what could only be described as an affectionate gesture. Two spots of pink bloomed on Mai's cheeks, though the colour vanished an instant later.

"Think you're cute, huh?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

The bird chirped happily.

"Well, you won't be so cute when my senbon are sticking out of your chest." She flicked at the bird with her hand, making it squawk in surprise and retreat back to the ground. "Learn to take a hint, already."

Unfortunately, the bird did not take a hint. Instead, it kept following her like some loyal puma-puppy, bright and chirpy and very, very annoying. Perhaps it had recognised that Mai's warnings were just empty threats. She'd never liked hurting animals, and she could tell by the way the bird kept shifting its left wing and from how it struggled to fly that it had already wounded itself while tangled in the vines. That said, if she were to be completely honest, the main reason she couldn't bring herself to use any real force to scare the bird away was because it really did remind her of Ty Lee.

Stupid, chirpy, dusky pink thing.

Mai clenched her jaw and kept walking. Time to focus. She was supposed to be looking for traces of their quarry, and spirits knew she was getting sick of this forest. She'd just ignore the bird and hope it would go away. It wasn't like it could keep up with her pace forever.

Except the bird was just as stubborn as Ty Lee. It kept on following her even when the damage done to its fragile body began to take its toll. Mai tried not to notice how its hopping didn't seem quite so bouncy now or how the bird gradually began to lag behind, despite making a few desperate attempts to catch up to her by flying. Instead, she focussed on searching the branches and ground for any strands of white fur that would suggest the Avatar had been in the area. One of the soldiers had seen a large white thing in the sky earlier that might have been an air bison, and so a small group had been sent to investigate, including Mai.

Except Mai had never cared much about the Avatar, and the bird's chirps sounded more distressed than cheerful now. She could still hear it hopping tiredly behind her.

She closed her eyes in a wince. She was so going to regret this.

"Fine," she said in her flattest, most unemotional voice. "You can ride on my shoulder."

For pragmatic reasons, of course. It wasn't like she had gone soft. She was just sick of listening to the bird staggering along with its pathetic little hops and weak twitters. Since it was so determined to follow her, she might as well spare herself that frustration. Or at least that was what she told herself when she stooped to pick up the exhausted creature. It nibbled gently on her finger, perhaps in gratitude. Mai frowned at the bird.

"Acting cute won't work on me. I thought I told you that before."

The bird gave a tired chirp and nestled into her cupped hands, making itself comfortable. Mai felt something warm stir within her like a little ball of … well, _something_. She could feel the bird's tiny heart beating against her palm and its body felt so fragile and light. Suddenly, she was reminded of that night when she had held her baby brother for the first time. Little Tom-Tom had been just like this: sleepy, fragile, and trusting with a newborn's innocence that she would keep him secure in her arms.

Mai shook her head, snapping out of the memory. It wouldn't do to dwell on thoughts of her family, let alone the past. Thinking of Tom-Tom just made her remember what had happened during that fight in Omashu. (Or New Ozai. Whatever.) It still bothered Mai that she had been forced to refuse the trade for her brother all because Azula had wanted to play her little games. If the "kidnapper" had not been the Avatar and his friends, there was no saying what could have happened to Tom-Tom.

_"You know, we were the ones who took care of your little brother back in Omashu. Aang even made sure he got back to your parents safely after you and your friends tried to kill us."_

Mai's jaw tightened. The waterbender had made a valid point, and that was what was so bothersome about the situation. Despite the fact that Mai had broken the code of honour by turning on the Avatar and his friends during a truce, albeit at Azula's insistence, the Avatar had still returned Tom-Tom to her family. He and his friends had not harmed Tom-Tom at all. Hell, they'd even changed his diapers and fed him. In a fair world, that kind of selfless act would have deserved some recognition or at least a free pass from Mai to carry on their way without interference. However, because she had already agreed to help Azula, she was now stuck chasing the Avatar. Because she was stuck chasing the Avatar, she also had to inevitably fight said boy and his friends. And if what Azula had said the other day was true …

_"It seems my brother has become a traitor to the Fire Nation. From what I saw today, he's sided with the Avatar."_

Mai closed her eyes. Zuko. She had tried so hard not to think about him. He was one of the few people who had managed to find a place in her carefully guarded heart. Well, at least he had done so when he had been a young boy, all awkward and shy. She didn't really know anything about Zuko now. He'd been gone for three years and she had not been allowed to communicate with him. The only thing she knew for certain was that he had not drowned like the rumours had stated. Instead, Zuko had returned from his watery grave to betray the Fire Nation and side with the Avatar. Or so Azula had claimed.

"It could be a lie," Mai said to the bird. "Azula likes to twist the truth."

Except Azula had not displayed the usual signs. No sharp little smiles, no cunning glint in her eyes. Just cold facts. Zuko had appeared, challenged his sister to a fight, protected the Avatar, and the Avatar had not hesitated to support him in return. Mai didn't know what to think. She didn't know what to feel. Had the prince she had once admired from afar in a palace garden changed so much? Had he really become an enemy to the Fire Nation?

Something rustled in the bushes. Mai tensed, conscious that her hands were occupied with holding the bird. No time to put it down. No chance to grab her weapons. She'd just have to—

"Mai!"

Ty Lee's sing-song voice broke through the clearing like a burst of sunshine. She bounded out from the trees, grinning and holding strands of white fur in her hand. Mai just sighed, partly in relief but also in frustration that she had let Ty Lee sneak up on her in the first place. Such a lapse in concentration could not be forgiven. Her composure was slipping. It had been ever since she had found out that Zuko was alive, and she couldn't afford that. Not with Azula watching her so closely.

"I see you found some bits of that fluff ball," Mai said dryly. "I guess the Avatar really is back on the move."

"Yup," Ty Lee said, shoving the fur into her pocket. "Though I only found white hairs around that big grassy field. The trail doesn't seem to lead anywhere, and the other soldiers who were searching didn't find anything."

Mai frowned. "Perhaps the bison was just grazing in the area. Judging from what happened last time, it seems the Avatar has realised we've been tracking him using the fur. I doubt he'll make it easy for us to follow again."

Ty lee shrugged. She didn't seem overly concerned with the bison or the Avatar's whereabouts. Instead, she leaned forward with a grin and rested her chin on her hands. "So, who's your new friend?"

"What?"

Ty Lee pointed at the bird, which Mai was still holding. "Little Feathers there."

Mai sighed and held the bird out to Ty Lee. "Here. You can have it."

"Aww, but he looks so cosy." Ty Lee put her face up near the bird and made cooing noises. "I wouldn't want to disturb the little guy."

Mai raised her eyebrow. "What makes you think it's a male?"

"The eyes. Male paratoos have black eyes while females have brown. See?"

Sure enough, the bird—or paratoo, as Ty Lee called it—had coal-black eyes. Well, how about that. Mai had to admit that she was impressed. She had never known that Ty Lee knew so much about birds.

"Plus," Ty Lee said seriously, "his aura is very male."

On second thought, Ty Lee was still Ty Lee.

Mai shoved the bird into Ty Lee's hands. "Whatever. Let's just head back to camp. We need to report to Azula."

"Hey, wait!"

Mai strode away in long strides.

"Don't worry, Little Feathers. Mai might act all cold and distant, but she really does have a big heart. I think she likes you."

"I can hear you," Mai said flatly, making it clear she did not approve of this analysis. "And you'd better do something about that bird. I don't think Azula will appreciate the addition of 'Little Feathers' to her entourage."

Ty Lee cocked her head to the side. "You don't think so?"

"You're kidding, right? You remember what she did to the turtleducks, don't you?"

The turtleducks had been Zuko's favourite animals at the palace. Mai remembered that he had often sat by the pond with his mother to toss them breadcrumbs. However, when Princess Ursa had gone missing, later presumed to be dead, Zuko had been left to feed them alone. Mai had always wanted to approach the withdrawn prince, to sit with him by the pond and toss breadcrumbs to the fuzzy creatures that he loved, if only to restore the smile which had used to stir her stomach with butterflies. But she had never been able to muster the courage. Then the Agni Kai happened and even Zuko was gone.

So Mai had decided that she would care for the turtleducks during his absence. It was the least she could do for the boy who had touched her heart. Except Azula had found her in the garden, and then Azula had—then she had—

_"What are you doing?" Mai cried, standing up from where she had been kneeling next to the pond. She could feel her mask of dispassion cracking. Even her hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists in an attempt to still them._

_Azula lowered her hand, which still flickered with blue flames. "Just cleaning up," she said coolly. "There's no point keeping these useless creatures around now. My brother is never coming back."_

Mai closed her eyes, letting go of the memory. Azula had walked off without a word after that, but the smell of charred flesh had lingered. It was a scent that Mai had never been able to forget, nor the image of the blackened corpses floating on the pond. It seemed that Ty Lee had not forgotten the incident either. Some of the brightness faded from her eyes and her shoulders drooped.

"I guess you're right," Ty Lee said sadly. She rubbed the paratoo's head with her finger. "Sorry, Little Feathers. It looks like we can't take you back with us."

Carefully, she placed the paratoo on the ground. The bird ruffled its feathers and stared at Mai as if to ask why it couldn't come with them. Which was ridiculous. It was just a stupid bird. Just a stupid, far-too-trusting bird. Just like those turtleducks.

Mai turned her back on the bird. "Let's go, Ty Lee."

"Alright."

Ty Lee said one final goodbye to "Little Feathers" before hurrying to catch up to Mai. She chatted about inconsequential things: who did Mai think was the cutest soldier travelling with them, whether the cook would make custard buns again, what she would wish for if a genie appeared and granted them three wishes. Mai knew that Ty Lee was just trying to lighten the mood. It was easier to distract with cheerful conversation than to confront the real problem. They both were aware of how much each other disapproved of Azula's crueller moments.

That neither of them was brave enough to stand up to the princess when it counted.

A faint crease formed on Mai's brow. Yes, Azula could be cruel to a fault, but there was also a reason the three girls had become friends. Maybe that was why Mai still wondered about why Azula had chosen to kill the turtleducks all those years ago. Had she done it out of spite because the birds were Zuko's favourite and Mai had chosen to feed them? Or was it because the turtleducks were just a constant reminder that the big brother with whom Azula had spent her childhood—the same brother she had mocked but also forced to play with her—had left her all alone?

_"My brother is never coming back."_

Azula always smiled when she was being cruel. She had not smiled that day.

oOo

_The sun was warm on his back. Zuko laughed and glanced at his sister, sand flicking up everywhere as the two of them ran from the waves that threatened to sneak around their ankles. Azula's grin was so wide he could see the gaps where her teeth had yet to come through to complete her smile._

_Of course, that was when she decided to push him into the salty water._

_Zuko fell on his rear with a yelp. The wave doused him in a cold rush, leaving bits of seaweed on his hair. Azula took one look at him and clamped her hand over her mouth. She struggled to maintain her composure, but then the first giggle escaped, followed by another and another. His cheeks burned pink and he clenched his hands into fists. Azula was so, so—_

_So happy in that moment._

_His frustration faded in an instant. A second later even he was laughing. He probably did look funny with seaweed stuck in his hair. That didn't stop him from getting some payback, though. One quick lunge had him grabbing the hem of her dress and then he pulled her into the water with him. Shrieks and giggles followed, mixed in with a lot of splashing. It was only Shizue's cry of dismay that had the siblings desisting in their mission to get the other as soaked and dirty as possible._

_"Look at you two!" Shizue said, planting her hands on her hips. "You're all covered in sand and you're drenched to the skin. What am I going to do with you?"_

_"What to do with them indeed," a voice said from behind the lady-in-waiting._

_It was their mother. Zuko scrambled to his feet, apologies already gathering on the tip of his tongue. Azula, on the other hand, stood there with all the cold dignity a three-year-old princess could muster, as if she did not have splatters of sand stuck to her cheek or, indeed, had done anything wrong._

_Mum bent down so that she was at eye level with her children. "Well, since you're already wet, you might as well enjoy yourselves." Then she winked._

_Zuko grinned. His mum was the best! Even Azula softened out of her Dignified Princess act. She tugged on Zuko's hand and demanded that he come play "Chase the Waves" with her again. That was when Zuko noticed their father watching the two of them from farther up the beach. Prince Ozai's long black hair hung loose and he was wearing his casual robes, typical for vacationing on Ember Island._

_He was also smiling._

Zuko's eyes snapped open. A cloud-speckled sky gazed back at him. No waves, no sand. Just the wind brushing his face and there was something warm pressing against his cheek. The warm thing moved. Ah, that was his uncle's shoulder. Right. He must have dozed off at some point. Now that he actually took in his surroundings, he realised that he was still sitting in the bison's saddle-like basket, squashed between his uncle and Toph. The landscape below them was a rolling mass of dunes, stretching all the way to the horizon. Only their guides' white-sailed boat disrupted the endless ocean of sand.

"Did you have a nice nap?"

Zuko stared into the distance, making no motion to respond to his uncle's question. In truth, he didn't know what to say. The dream was still vivid in his mind. He could almost smell the salt spray of the sea and hear Azula's gleeful shrieks and giggles as the siblings chased each other round and round. It hurt to think of how happy he had looked.

It really hurt.

He didn't need his growing headache to tell him that he had recovered a memory from his childhood. The ache in his heart was undeniable. It whispered that what he had seen was real. If his family could be cruel and ugly, there was also another side to the coin. It was a side that had manifested itself on the golden beaches of Ember Island, and it was probably what had fuelled his desire to return home while he had been banished. Cherished memories. Tender memories. He could see how he must have clung to them like a drowning man. Maybe that's why reliving the memories now just left a bitter taste.

His family had been happy once. How had it gone so wrong?

"Zuko?" Iroh touched his arm. "Are you alright?"

Zuko shook his head, more in a gesture to say he didn't want to talk about it than a confirmation that something was troubling him. He could sense rather than see that the Avatar and his group of friends were watching. Even the lemur. There was no way he was going to spill his heart in front of them. Plus, he just didn't want to deal with the confusion that came with trying to sort through his memories. Picking at his past was like picking at a barely healed scab. It opened fresh wounds. Better to focus on the now. Better to focus on discovering the truth about his healing abilities.

"It's nothing," he said firmly.

Iroh still looked concerned, but Zuko wasn't going to give his uncle a chance to start poking and prodding to get the truth out of him. Instead, he asked how far they had to go before they reached Wan Shi Tong's library.

Sokka glanced up from the Earth Kingdom map he had been reading. "I've been trying to figure that out," he said, and pointed to the line he had drawn on the map from the Misty Palms Oasis to a spot in the far centre of the Si Wong Desert. "Iroh, you said the library is somewhere around this area, right?"

Iroh spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I do recall it being in the central area of the desert; however, it has been many years since I made my journey and there were quite a few things on my mind during that time. I honestly could not tell you how I got to the library. Back then, I also relied on a guide."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. "Then how do we know we're even going in the right direction? Those guys you made us hire"—he gestured towards the boat-like thing they were following, which was being propelled along the dunes with great gusts of sand—"could be leading us back to their hideout only to betray us."

"I hate to say it, but Zuko has a point," Sokka said. "I mean, I know that old man you played Pai Sho with vouched for the sandbenders being able to help us and all, but they're not exactly the friendliest looking bunch." He shuddered, perhaps remembering the rotten-toothed smile one of the sandbenders had given him.

Iroh chuckled. "Appearances can be deceiving. Wolfbats can appear as koala-sheep and koala-sheep can appear as wolfbats. What matters is that we must learn to discern the truth for ourselves."

There was an awkward silence.

"Does he always talk like that?" Sokka muttered, leaning towards Zuko.

Zuko rolled his eyes. "You have no idea."

His uncle was forever speaking in proverbs. Zuko was pretty sure that Iroh did it on purpose just to sound wiser. Or maybe it was an old man thing in general, as if growing a beard and some grey hairs meant you could no longer speak plainly. That ancient relic his uncle had befriended while playing Pai Sho at the Misty Palms Oasis had been cryptic as well. Something about white lotuses and doors opening …

"Whatever."

Zuko started at Toph's voice. It was unnerving that she had vocalised exactly what he had been thinking, though her reasons for sounding unimpressed were different. It seemed that she did not understand what was so special about Wan Shi Tong's library or why they had to go through all of this trouble just to visit the place. If she had her way, they would have never entered the Si Wong Sandpit.

Sokka gasped theatrically. "Are you kidding? It's an ancient library brought back from the Spirit World and is probably filled with thousands of books and scrolls! We're bound to get some intelligence on the Fi—" he flushed, avoiding Zuko and Iroh's gaze. "I mean, we're bound to find some useful information there."

Zuko's eyes narrowed. Sokka pointedly looked anywhere but at him. More and more suspicious.

Toph wriggled her toes to get rid of some of the sand that had got stuck between them. "Well, you guys have fun with that."

"You're not going to come with us to the library?" Katara asked.

Toph's voice became even more sarcastic. "I've held books and scrolls before. I gotta tell you, they don't exactly do it for me."

There was another awkward pause as everyone took in Toph's vacant stare and milky-green eyes.

"Right," Katara said, going a bit pink in her cheeks. "Sorry."

Toph just went back to wriggling her toes. Obviously, she was used to her travelling companions forgetting that she was blind.

"Anyway," Sokka said, pulling the conversation back to the matter at hand. "As Zuko was saying, how do we know that we can really trust these sandbender guys?"

"I guess we just have faith," Aang piped up from where he sat perched on the front of the basket. "The sandbenders know the desert better than anyone, right? Sure, that means they could betray us if they lead us to their hideout and surround us or something." He shrugged. "But it also means they're in the best position to help. Right now, I want to believe that they're the real koala-sheep."

Iroh smiled. "Well said, Avatar."

Zuko's brow creased. He didn't know why his uncle sounded so pleased; that kind of speech was typical from the Avatar. The airhead always wanted to see the good in everyone.

_Even you_, a small voice in his mind reminded, _and that was after you had threatened him and tried to capture him._

_Shut up!_ Zuko told the voice.

Sokka frowned and folded up the map. "Well, it's too late for us to turn back now anyway. We're here, so I guess we'll just have to trust that the sandbenders are taking us in the right direction."

"Indeed," Iroh agreed.

"And if they try to pull anything funny, I can always bust some heads with my bending," Toph said cheerfully.

Zuko stared at the small girl seated next to him. Her lips were curved into a bloodthirsty smile, suggesting that she would take great pleasure in busting said heads. Creepy. He made a mental note not to underestimate her or to get on her bad side. That smile reminded him way too much of Azula.

"Hey, the sand-sailer has stopped!" Aang exclaimed.

Katara peered over the edge of the saddle. "I thought the library was supposed to be a huge, ornate building. I don't see anything but sand."

Iroh chuckled. "No, this is the place." He pointed to where a spire was sticking out from the sand. "Right there is where you'll find Wan Shi Tong's library."

Zuko stared at his uncle. "But that means—"

"It's completely buried," Sokka finished with a sigh. "Great. Our big source of intelligence is full of sand."

Iroh's mouth twitched into a smile. "Have some faith in this old man. The library is still accessible."

Zuko didn't see how that would be possible, but when Appa landed next to the spire and they all clambered off the basket, Toph confirmed that there was a massive building underground and all of its passages were intact and free of sand. He couldn't help but sigh in relief. For a horrible moment, he'd thought that they had come all this way for nothing. Now that he knew they could actually get inside, he found himself itching to get moving. All of the answers he sought about his healing abilities could be inside that library. It was a terrifying but also relieving thought.

Iroh had a brief conversation with the sandbenders and then gestured for the others to follow him towards the tower-like structure jutting up from the sand. True to her word, Toph chose not to come with them and claimed that she would keep an eye on the "koala-sheep". She plonked herself on the ground next to Appa and made a shooing motion with her hands. No one needed to be told twice. All of them were just as curious to see inside the library of legend, though Iroh seemed more resigned when they climbed through the open window and began descending the rope into the library.

Zuko's eyes widened when his feet touched the floor and he was able to take in the inside of the building for the first time. He was standing on a bridge. Pillars and stone arches seemed to go on for miles, connecting with a web-like maze of corridors and rooms that were filled with rows upon rows of bookshelves. The vastness was overwhelming even for a prince like him who had grown up in the Fire Nation palace. Perhaps it was because there was something spirit-touched about the library.

A shiver crept down his spine as he looked into the abyss that spanned either side of the bridge. Combined with the ghostly light of the lamps, he could believe that falling into that bottomless darkness would lead him straight to the Spirit World.

There was a soft, rustling sound from behind the group. Feathers caressing against feathers. Zuko unsheathed his swords and spun around, preparing to defend or attack if needed. He froze when he saw a giant owl step out through the stone archway. If his uncle's story was true, this was surely Wan Shi Tong. Zuko swallowed. Somehow, he didn't think his swords would be very good against a spirit. He really missed being able to use his bending. Hopefully, the owl would be friendly.

The owl was not friendly.

Wan Shi Tong had developed a disliking for humans over the years and ordered them to leave unless they wanted to become stuffed heads on his display wall. Humans were prohibited from using the library. No exceptions. Zuko would have lost his temper—he was not about to let some over-grown owl stop him from getting the knowledge he needed—but then his uncle stepped forward and tried to reason with the owl. Upon some probing, they managed to learn that a firebender had come to the library a few years ago with the intent of finding out a means to destroy his enemy. Sokka got a guilty expression on his face after that comment, but Zuko barely noticed. He was too busy fuming over the fact that they were right there and he wasn't able to pick up so much as one book.

"I don't care about any of that!" Zuko shouted, slashing his hand through the air. "I just want to find out the truth about my bending! I know you have information on fire healers in here somewhere!"

Wan Shi Tong extended his long neck, looming forward like something from a nightmare as he placed his face right up next to Zuko's. Zuko resisted the urge to step back. It was unnerving to be confronted with those timeless eyes at such close proximity.

"Interesting," Wan Shi Tong said, eyeing Zuko up and down. "Very interesting. I thought the humans had destroyed your kind."

Zuko swallowed. "W-what?"

The owl just gave a faint smile and then pulled his face back. "Very well," he said, speaking to the group as a whole, "I'll let you peruse my vast collection, but on one condition. To prove your worth as scholars, you have to contribute some worthwhile knowledge."

Once this requirement was satisfied, Zuko and Iroh separated from the Avatar's group and made their way deeper into the web of rooms. It didn't take Zuko long to find the section dedicated to the Fire Nation and its history. Unfortunately, every book, scroll and shelf had been burnt to ashes. There was nothing left. No information about fire healing. No explanation for why the royal family had sworn an oath to kill the Children of the Undying Fire.

"No," Zuko said, collapsing to his knees. "This can't be."

Iroh placed his hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Nephew. It was not like this when I came here last. However, the library is vast. Perhaps we can still find some information on your healing abilities. I believe there is a section on bending. We might have luck there."

"Yeah," Zuko said, getting to his feet.

And if that failed, he was going to corner that over-grown owl and force Wan Shi Tong to talk, spirit or not. It was clear that Wan Shi Tong knew something. Zuko wasn't about to give up just yet.


	19. Seeker of Truth

Zuko slammed the book shut and shoved it back on the shelf. "Nothing."

Iroh frowned. "Zuko—"

Zuko stomped past his uncle to the next shelf and pulled out a fresh pile of scrolls and books. He already knew what Iroh was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it. The Fire Nation section had been burnt to ashes. At his uncle's suggestion, the two of them had backtracked to the room where information on bending and the previous Avatars was stored, hoping to find some records about the Children of the Undying Fire. So far, fire healers had not even been mentioned. It was as if the Children of the Undying Fire had never existed.

"There has to be something," Zuko muttered, flicking through the pages of a book in a feverish manner. Finding nothing of value, he tossed the book aside and picked up a scroll. "People just can't erase history. There has to be something."

Iroh sighed and closed the text he had been reading. "Zuko," he tried again.

Zuko wasn't listening. He scanned the scroll in his hand—a drawing of a creature that looked like a lion crossed with a turtle—and then rolled it up again in disgust. He was already reaching for the next book on his pile when his uncle's hand closed around his wrist.

"Nephew, stop," Iroh's voice was sad and tired. "I do not think you will find what you are looking for here."

Zuko hunched his shoulders. "You don't know that. There are still plenty of shelves that we haven't searched."

"And normally I would be just as optimistic, but the fact remains that we have searched all of the shelves dedicated to firebending. Don't you find it strange that there was no mention of fire healing in any of the texts?"

Zuko's chest tightened. Of course he had noticed the omission. He had just preferred to dismiss the matter from his mind. Wan Shi Tong's library was overflowing with ancient records. It seemed ridiculous that such a fountain of information could hold nothing, not even the smallest scrap of evidence, to help shed light on the Children of the Undying Fire. Ridiculous yet somehow typical. Zuko's luck had always been bad.

"You think that everything was destroyed in that fire," Zuko concluded in a dull voice.

"Most likely."

There was an unspoken "but" attached to the sentence. Zuko waited for his uncle to elaborate, but Iroh said nothing. Instead, a distant gleam entered his eyes and he stroked his beard in a contemplative manner. It was obvious that his mind was elsewhere, thinking of thoughts to which only he was privy. Zuko resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation. He hated it when his uncle went all cryptic.

"Uncle," Zuko prompted.

"It bothers me," Iroh admitted. "No matter how you look at it, the fact that fire healing exists means that one of these texts on firebending should have contained some kind of acknowledgement to the technique."

Zuko folded his arms across his chest. "But there is nothing."

"Indeed. There is something not right about this situation. I told you that the records I read in the palace archives had been poorly maintained and were barely legible. After coming here, I think that might have been intentional."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone wanted the Children of the Undying Fire to be forgotten." Iroh met his eyes grimly. "The palace archive is a place that few know about, let alone can access. It is home to the Fire Nation's secret history—every dark deed and buried truth—yet the scrolls stored about the Children of the Undying Fire had seemed incomplete when compared to the others. It wouldn't be a stretch to suppose that those records, perhaps even others, have been sabotaged to destroy any solid trace to the benders."

Zuko released a breath. "But why? What's so bad about fire healing? Why would someone go to such lengths?"

Iroh shook his head. "I don't know. However, it worries me that this tampering has reached even Wan Shi Tong's library."

Zuko's gaze shifted to the shelves brimming with books and scrolls. He felt helpless. There was so much information being stored in the library. Information gathered from all over the world. It seemed a cruel blow that none of it was of any use to him, especially if it was true that the only reason for why he had found nothing was because someone had tried to erase all of the evidence. His stomach twisted in unease as he remembered what Wan Shi Tong had said.

_"I thought the humans had destroyed your kind."_

Not one nation, as his uncle had inferred, but humans as a whole. It was an awful, sickening possibility. If Wan Shi Tong was to be believed, the world had feared and despised fire healers so much that they had committed mass genocide to get rid of them. True, there was no saying whether all of the nations had actually participated in the killing, but it sounded like no one had stepped in to stop the slaughter either.

_Just like with the Air Nomads_, a small voice whispered in his mind.

Zuko bowed his head. Emotions too tangled to unravel pricked his heart like a caress of thorns. It was his great-grandfather who had ordered all of the Air Nomads to be hunted and killed; the rest of the world had just turned a blind eye. Until recently, Zuko had even believed in the propaganda that had justified the genocide. Sozin had been a wise leader, just doing what he had to in order to protect his people from the threat of the airbender army and an Avatar who, it was claimed, was being raised to destroy the Fire Nation. It was an "us or them" justification that had been engrained into Zuko's mind through countless lessons.

And it was all lies.

No one who had got to know Aang would believe that the monks had raised the boy to be a weapon for the Air Nomads. Aang could be thoughtless, erratic, and a complete idiot at times, but there was no real viciousness in him. Zuko could admit that now. The devastation caused to the Fire Nation at the North Pole had been a rare moment of violence, birthed from desperation and grief. It was true that Zuko had not been able to understand as much then, consumed by his own distress after watching the navy get obliterated by a glowing monster. He understood now.

The Fire Nation had destroyed the Air Nomads. Aang had probably assumed the same thing was going to happen to the Northern Water Tribe. An unbiased part of Zuko could even acknowledge that something like that might have happened had Zhao and the navy not been stopped. The people of the Fire Nation had always been good at following orders.

And it was a Fire Lord who had sworn an oath to destroy the Children of the Undying Fire.

Zuko's hands trembled. There was a part of him—the part who had knelt on a stone arena and tearfully proclaimed that he was his father's loyal son—who still yearned to cling to the justifications that had helped him view the world in black and white throughout his childhood. The Fire Nation was home. The Fire Lords were supposed to be obeyed without question, for they were the best and wisest of the country, chosen by Agni himself to govern. But Zuko's faith had been shattered. It had cracked and been chipped away by a stupid kid who offered shy smiles and friendship instead of threats.

It had burned with the fire that had consumed his memories and untethered him from the engrained loyalty that had blinded his eyes.

Now, standing in Wan Shi Tong's library, Zuko felt the very foundations upon which he had built his faith crumble. He was one of the Children of the Undying Fire. His kind had been hunted and killed just like the Air Nomads. What was the justification? Was it just another lie fabricated by one of his royal predecessors, twisted through propaganda to appear as an unfortunate necessity? He had to know the truth. He had to know why the simple fact that he could use his bending to heal was such a crime in the sight of the world, even to the point where people had intentionally tampered with historical records to erase any evidence of the healers.

Zuko clenched his hands into fists. "I'm going to talk to Wan Shi Tong."

Maybe the books couldn't help him, but the over-grown owl definitely knew something about the Children of the Undying Fire. His uncle must have seen his determination, because he didn't even blink at the announcement. He just nodded and told Zuko that they would have to be careful. Wan Shi Tong was not a benign spirit.

"I know," Zuko said grimly, "but this could be my only chance to get information about my healing abilities."

Iroh gripped him by the shoulder. "Then let us make haste."

The two of them made their way through the web of rooms and stone archways, seeking out the spirit who guarded the library. It was like walking through a maze. The avian faces that had been carved into the mosaic tiles seemed to watch their progress, as if Wan Shi Tong's eyes were following their every move. Mocking. Uncaring. The stone owls watched, but there was no sign of the real spirit. Zuko's blood boiled. He knew that Wan Shi Tong was aware of their presence and their desires.

He stopped on the bridge where they had first arrived, jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. "Wan Shi Tong!" he yelled, voice echoing off the walls. "Show yourself!"

Iroh groaned and pressed his palm against his forehead. "Nephew, you cannot order a spirit around. Especially not one like Wan Shi Tong."

Zuko didn't care. He was sick of being ignored and treated like nothing more than a source of amusement. "Wan Shi Tong!" he called again, turning in each direction in an attempt to get a glimpse of the owl.

That was when the walls started shaking.

Zuko stumbled on the bridge, almost losing his footing. Sand shook down through the cracks in the walls and ceiling, gathering intensity by the second until it was as if grainy waterfalls had burst forth from every corner of the room. Pillars trembled and the stone under their feet seemed to heave and groan. Zuko's heart quickened in his chest. Had his shouting awakened the spirit's wrath?

"W-what's happening?" he stammered.

Iroh pushed him towards the rope that led back to the desert. "We have to get out of here."

"But—"

"The library is being destroyed!" Iroh exclaimed, and gave him another push. "No information is worth your life! We have to get out while we can!"

Zuko hesitated. He desperately wanted that information about the Children of the Undying Fire. Plus, Aang and the others were still inside. Then he heard another voice: a girl shouting in panic that the library was sinking. It was Toph, the blind girl who had chosen to stay outside with the sandbenders. For a moment, it almost seemed like the shaking slowed, but then there were more shouts. Too many. Too violent.

Iroh's eyes narrowed. "We need to get to the surface. The young earthbender is in trouble."

Zuko knew that his uncle was right, but he still hesitated. He needed that information. If there was any chance to learn the truth about his healing abilities, he had to take it. "Go," he told his uncle. "I'll be right behind you."

"Zuko—"

"I won't let myself get trapped in here," he said with a ghost of his cocky smile. "I'll be quick. Besides, someone has to make sure the others get out safely."

Iroh didn't look happy at leaving, but then they heard what sounded like an air bison groaning in pain. Toph screamed something and the building started shaking again in earnest, only to slow a few seconds later. Iroh glanced up at the window that led outside in worry. Whatever was happening out there, it sounded bad.

"Go," Zuko repeated. "I swear I'll follow you."

Iroh pulled him into a hug that crushed his ribs, entreating him in a low voice to be careful. Then Iroh's arms were gone and the old man was clambering up the rope to join the earthbender outside. Zuko turned away from his uncle's retreating figure and hurried across the bridge. Sand continued to fall, coating the pathway and getting in his hair. No time to worry about that now. He had to be fast.

"Wan Shi Tong!" Zuko yelled, running through the maze-like corridors and rooms. "Where are you?"

He rounded a corner and collided with Katara, almost tripping over her legs as he got tangled with her in a bruising collision of chins and elbows. They both gasped and clutched at each other to steady themselves. Momo made an indignant sound and flew off her shoulder to find a safer perch.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Where are the others?"

"No time for that," Katara said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling her with him. "Just run!"

Zuko glanced over his shoulder to see Wan Shi Tong speeding towards them like a thing from a nightmare, almost oozing feathers as his size seemed to increase, filling up the space to block their escape. Everything about the owl's expression screamed cold fury, but Zuko had never been one to give up. He had to get that information.

"Wait!" He slipped free of Katara's grip and held out his hands towards the owl in an appeasing gesture. "Please, I just need to know the truth. I swear I'll leave this library and never return, but I just need to know. Who are the Children of the Undying Fire? Why did that Fire Lord swear an oath to destroy them?"

Wan Shi Tong laughed. "What does it matter? None of you will be leaving today."

"But—"

The owl lunged. Slender fingers latched around Zuko's wrist and he found himself being dragged behind the cover of a bookshelf as a sharpened beak hit the spot where he had just been standing.

"Are you crazy?" Katara hissed. "Why are you trying to talk to him? Wan Shi Tong wants to kill us!"

"I had to try. He might be the only one who can tell me anything about my healing abilities."

"Well, I don't think he's in a talkative mood!"

Zuko opened his mouth to respond, but then a feather drifted past his face and he instead grabbed her by her arms, pulling her up against his chest. A second later they were moving through the air in a dive-like motion, just missing being shredded by the owl's talons. Katara met Zuko's gaze in wide-eyed fear as they rolled to a stop. That had been too close.

"I think we should run now," she said.

"Agreed."

They both clambered to their feet and started sprinting towards the main bridge. Zuko's bending was useless, but he had his swords. He unsheathed them just in case while Katara called for Momo. The lemur appeared a second later, looking frazzled and with his green eyes rounder than ever.

"Where are Aang and Sokka?" Zuko asked as he and Katara ran side by side.

"Probably still in the planetarium," she panted. "I told them to hurry, but—"

Her words turned into an alarmed cry. Wan Shi Tong appeared before them, massive wings spread wide. Katara lashed out at the owl with a water whip, not even checking to see if the attack connected before she tugged on Zuko's wrist, urging him down a side corridor. He followed her without resistance, Momo gliding overhead. For now, there was no sound of pursuit.

"Think we lost him?" she asked.

"Don't know." He paused when he noticed the sleek-furred animal staring at them from where it sat in the middle of the corridor. He'd never seen a fox before—most animals were crossbreeds—but somehow he knew that the creature before him was indeed a fox. Pure and simple. "Is that—"

"One of the Knowledge Seekers," Katara said. "Yes. One of them helped us find the planetarium before. I think they somehow understand what it is we hope to look for in the library."

Zuko frowned. "There's something dangling from its mouth."

Katara made an anxious sound. She muttered something about how this wasn't the time to be stopping to chat to animals, but he wasn't listening. The Knowledge Seeker was carrying a scroll in its mouth: one that looked a little charred, as if it had been caught in a fire once. His heart pounded against his ribs. Could it be?

He sheathed his swords and knelt in front of the fox, meeting its ageless eyes. Intelligence. Knowledge. He sensed that this strange creature would understand him if he asked for what it carried, but there was no need. The Knowledge Seeker just stared at him and released the scroll into his outstretched hand before darting off in the other direction. The last thing Zuko saw of the fox was its bushy tail disappearing into the falling streams of sand.

Katara came to stand next to him. "What did it give you?"

Zuko tightened his hand around the scroll. "Hopefully, the truth."

Something rustled behind them. Feathers. Zuko tensed and grabbed her arm with his free hand, forcing her to run alongside him. Momo screeched in agitation, flying ahead of them like a white arrow. Soon, they were sprinting through the stone archway and onto the bridge where the rope still dangled.

"Climb!" Zuko ordered, tucking the scroll into his tunic and unsheathing his blades.

"You go first!" Katara responded, taking up a bending stance. "I'm not leaving my brother and Aang!"

Zuko didn't get the chance to argue. Wan Shi Tong had just burst forth through the archway, stone crumbling around him in broken shards. The owl took to the air, eyeing the two benders like a predator cornering its prey.

"Your swords and bending are useless against me," Wan Shi Tong said in his cold, ancient voice.

Something whistled overhead. Zuko glanced up to see Aang and Sokka fly past on the Avatar's glider. Sokka let go of Aang and raised the book he'd been clutching, using the force of gravity and his own strength to hit the owl with a hard blow to the head. Still in motion, Sokka sprang off Wan Shi Tong and landed on the bridge as the spirit wavered and plummeted towards the inky darkness below.

Katara beamed at her brother, but there was no time for happy reunions. The library was still shaking and getting steadily more buried with sand. The four clambered up the rope, Momo in tow, and escaped out the window. The sight that met their eyes had all of them gasping in unison.

"Those bastards!" Sokka growled, dropping to the ground and pulling out his boomerang.

There were sandbenders everywhere. Flashes of orange alerted Zuko to his uncle's presence. The old man was standing with his back to the bison and tower, cutting through the ranks of sandbenders with giant bursts of fire. Two of the desert nomads were not far from him, sending up walls of sand and trying to keep the other nomads and the ropes they wielded at bay. Zuko didn't spot Toph anywhere. Then he noticed she was standing directly in front of the sinking tower, feet dug into the ground and her arms raised.

"Toph!" Aang shouted, running up to her. "What's going on?"

She tilted her head in their direction. The sound of their voices must have reassured her because she abruptly lowered her arms as if she had been holding the weight of the world in her palms and could not carry it any longer. The tip of the spire vanished into the sand a second later.

Toph dusted her hands off and turned to face them. "You guys took your time," she said, blowing her fringe out of her face with a puff of breath.

Katara's eyes widened. "Were you the one stopping the library from sinking?"

Toph nodded. "Though the moment I was distracted with trying to keep you all from being crushed, more sand-sailers arrived and those sandbenders started attacking." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Lucky the old man came to help our friendly koala-sheep."

Zuko glanced at where his uncle and two of their guides were still fighting off the sandbenders to keep them away from the bison. Without a second thought, he unsheathed his blades and ran to help, weaving his way through the nomads like a snake, striking and parrying and slicing through exposed limbs in a blur of twin blades. Dimly, he was aware of Aang and the others joining him. The combined power of their attack was too much for the sandbenders, especially when Aang learnt that their target had been Appa.

"You tried to steal Appa?" Aang yelled, magnifying his voice with the power of his bending.

There was no hope for the rogue sandbenders after that. Aang unleashed a storm of winds that turned their bending against them. Sand blinded and lashed at the men like tiny blades. Even Zuko and the others had to fall back to avoid getting caught up in the maelstrom. Still, Aang's rage had the desired effect. The sandbenders scrambled for their sand-sailers and retreated as fast as their bending could power the sails.

"Should we really just let them go?" Zuko asked, lowering his swords.

One of the sandbenders who had not turned against them stepped forward. Zuko thought his name was Kumo. "They won't come back," he observed. "You've demonstrated your strength today and Gashuin will be afraid that news of this will reach his father. He'll be too busy trying to come up with an excuse for why he called in members of the Hami tribe to help him steal what turned out to be the Avatar's bison."

Zuko frowned and stared back at the retreating sandbenders, watching the sails disappear over the dunes like white wings fading into the sunset. He hated to think what would have happened had his uncle not been there to help. Aang must have felt the same, for he suddenly threw himself at the bison.

"You're safe!" Aang said, pressing his face into the shaggy fur and hugging as much of Appa as he could. "No one is going to take you away. I won't let them."

"And aren't we all aware of it," Sokka said dryly. "Your little whirlwind trick got us as well, you know. I swear I have sand in places that I didn't even know existed."

Katara scrunched her nose. "Too much information, Sokka."

"Way too much information," Zuko agreed.

Aang pulled his arms away from Appa and stared at them a bit sheepishly. "Sorry. I just got so mad when I heard those guys had been trying to steal Appa."

"Yeah, we noticed," Toph deadpanned. Her hair and clothes were smothered in grainy specks.

Kumo let out a light chuckle. "It was certainly an impressive display. If Gashuin had known you were capable of that, let alone were friends with such powerful warriors, I doubt he would have tried to carry out his plan."

Iroh smiled at Kumo and the other sandbender. "Ah, but you were both a great help as well. It is thanks to your efforts that Master Toph was able to focus on keeping the library from sinking and that our furry friend is still with us."

Kumo held up a hand. "Please, you don't owe us any gratitude. We were hired to be your guides. The desert is a rough and unforgiving place, but that is no excuse for Gashuin and Fen's betrayal. I hope you won't judge all of us sandbenders by their behaviour."

Aang's mouth split into a wide grin. "Of course not. You helped us save Appa."

"That's right," Katara said. "We would never think badly of you."

Zuko said nothing. He recalled the argument he'd had with his uncle and Aang about whether they could trust the sandbenders. A part of him wanted to say _I told you so_, since they had indeed been betrayed, but then Kumo and that quiet guy had not turned against them. The two men had even fought against their own people, choosing the honourable course of action over loyalty to kinship. It was just another reminder that the world could not be separated into black and white, that sometimes being of the same nation or kin wasn't enough.

_"Appearances can be deceiving. Wolfbats can appear as koala-sheep and koala-sheep can appear as wolfbats. What matters is that we must learn to discern the truth for ourselves."_

Zuko thought he understood now. It was the reason his faith in the infallibility of his nation and family had started crumbling in the first place. People who were supposed to be his enemies had tried to be his friend and those who should have cared for him had hurt him instead. The world had become so messed up. All he could do was try to separate the lies from the truth in order to stay sane.

To survive.

His fingers curled around the scroll tucked inside the folds of his tunic. Well, at least now he could perhaps shed some light on what happened to the Children of the Undying Fire. He couldn't wait to find out what was written on the scroll. In fact, the moment the group all piled back on Appa and started following Kumo's sand-sailer to leave the desert, Zuko pulled out the rolled up parchment. Very carefully, he unfurled it to reveal several pages. His eyes widened as he realised it was an account written from before the war. The author was a scholar from Ba Sing Se named Shang. Most of the beginning was completely illegible, damaged from the fire that had almost consumed the scroll. Zuko started reading from where he could:

_I watched the child place his hands on his mother's wound. His eyes glowed pale gold and I felt the warmth of life spark from his hands. The mother was miraculously able to walk again, but the child died not long after. No one would explain why. No one would tell me anything. The whole family acted as if nothing had happened. I do not understand. It's obvious to me that the young firebender healed that woman. I must research further so—_

More fire damage. More faded words.

_I think I have found the answer. It took a long time to get hold of the information, but it seems there was once a rare breed of firebenders who lived within the Fire Nation. The people called them the Children of the Undying Fire. They were marked by their pale gold eyes, just like that child I saw, though it seems they had high mortality rates. Perhaps this would explain the label of the benders being 'Children'. Few seemed to survive to adulthood. It is—_

Zuko made a frustrated sound as the words once more became impossible to read. The parchment was so damaged.

"Is that the scroll the fox gave you?" Katara asked, leaning over him to peer at the page in interest.

Zuko grunted in affirmation.

Her brow creased. "How can you even read this?" She traced her finger along the page. "I have tried to learn more about the fire healers," she said slowly, struggling to connect the scorched words. "It is proving difficult. They are as old as the fabled Sun Warriors, yet they are buried in even deeper secrecy. I fear that I am being watched. My quest for truth has led me here, but ..." She sighed and shook her head. "That's all I can make out."

Iroh perked up and moved closer to the two. "Let me see."

Zuko handed the scroll over without a word. Iroh scanned the pages. With every sentence he strung together, the frown deepened on his face.

"It seems this Shang was indeed being watched," Iroh observed. "Look at what he writes near the end."

Zuko accepted the charred page. "My time is running out," he read aloud. "They are coming to silence me. All I can offer is this record and a name: Princess Shu—" Zuko squinted at the characters, but could not make out the rest of the name. He frowned and kept reading. "Somehow, I know it all begins with her. I wish I had the chance to uncover the full truth, though I fear I will be dead by the time the sun rises. I cannot say whether it would be wise for anyone to follow in my footsteps. The pale-eyed ones are dangerous, the Fire Lord is even more so. Perhaps it is true that some secrets are best left buried."

Those were the last legible lines.

Zuko closed his fingers around the scroll, bunching the papers in his fist. For a moment no one spoke. Zuko didn't even know what to think. Instead of answers, the account had only posed more questions. Who was this princess? Who were the people who had decided to silence the scholar? Somehow, Zuko had to figure it out. The question was where to begin.

"Keep that scroll safe," Iroh advised. "I'll read over it again later and see if I can decipher anything else."

Zuko nodded and tucked the rolled up papers back inside his tunic. It was all he could do until they found a new lead. That was when a thought struck him. Shang had mentioned that the Children of the Undying Fire were marked by their pale gold eyes. It was almost identical to what Shizue, his mother's lady-in-waiting, had said all of those years ago. The words were like a dream now, drifting in a space that had no ties to any set image, but he still remembered them clearly.

_"He has the eyes, Princess Ursa."_

Zuko's mother had known that he had the potential to be a fire healer, as had her lady-in-waiting. It was entirely possible that the two women had let slip other information. With his memories still incomplete, Zuko had no way of knowing if he could assemble a lead from the scraps of conversations he had overhead as a child. He would have to retrieve all of his memories somehow. It was the only way to know for certain, even if his chest tightened at the thought. His past hurt him, but he could not keep running. Not if he wanted to move forward. Not if he wanted to discover the truth.

He turned to Katara, who sat next to him. She tilted her head, gazing back at him in question. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the pinched look of a person trying to appear unaffected, but not quite able to hide her discomfort. No doubt she was wondering why he was staring at her so intently all of a sudden. Zuko took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"My uncle says you can heal sicknesses of the mind," he said, holding her gaze. "Will you help me retrieve my memories?"


	20. Trials and Healing

Zuko numbly followed Katara to the stream that bordered their campsite, stepping into a clearing that was surrounded by trees. A dim part of him was aware that Iroh and the Avatar had invited themselves along to watch, but he was too caught up in the emotions battering inside him to protest against their presence. His mouth felt too dry, his chest too tight. It was all he could do not to balk.

"Ready?" Katara asked.

She stood before him, illuminated by the silvery glow of the moon. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't ready. Not at all. The last thing he wanted was to rip off the barely healed scab that covered his past and embrace what his mind had instinctively understood he needed to bury in order to survive. However, he also knew that he would get nowhere by running. So he nodded and lowered his head. A silent acquiescence.

She closed the distance between them and he flinched when her cool hands brushed against his temples, bathed in the glowing liquid of her element. His eyes fluttered shut, but even the cover of darkness didn't help. His pulse quickened and his heart thudded against his ribs. This was an invasion. Her touch, the water. It was wrong. Without even realising it, his body went rigid and his fingers curled into fists.

"Don't fight me," she said softly. "Just relax."

He inhaled a deep breath and released it in a slow exhale. Some of the stiffness eased from his body. He felt her fingers spread against his skin, pressing down on the trigger points so that she could access his chi meridians. Instinct made him want to tense up again, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he pretended that he was meditating. She was a flame to which he needed to become attuned and all he had to do was breathe.

"That's it," Katara encouraged. "Relax."

His pulse slowed. He listened for the sound of her breaths and matched his own to the rhythm, focussing on the gentle rise and fall of his chest. That was when her bending took hold. It was like a watery whisper had slipped into his mind, pulling back layers with careful fingers. He saw flickers of his childhood: himself as a boy practicing sword fighting, Azula grinning with a gap-filled smile and holding up a palm of flames. The images blurred and reformed. He was crawling on a roof to rescue a monkey-cat, then he was falling, bones cracking and skin bruising even as fire rushed to cocoon him.

_"Fire is life."_

Something snapped. The moment Katara's energy brushed against the deeper vaults of his mind, pain ripped through him in an explosion of white sparks. He gasped and wrenched his face away, blindly pushing at her hands and stumbling onto his backside.

"Zuko!" Aang exclaimed, rushing to his feet.

Arms encircled him and Zuko found himself braced against a male's chest, though the general size was too broad and the belly too soft to be the Avatar's. The scent of herbs and tea drifted around him. It was his uncle who had steadied him. A hand touched his forehead, then shifted to feel his pulse. Zuko blinked and tried to focus, even though he just felt disoriented and sick.

"What happened?" Iroh asked grimly.

Katara swallowed, looking just as pale as Zuko. "It was the same as when I tried to heal him the last time, back when he collapsed during that fight in Omashu and wouldn't wake up."

"The wall of fire?" Aang asked, glancing up at her from where he crouched next to Zuko.

She nodded. "It blocked me just like before, though it seemed smaller this time."

Zuko groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position so that he was no longer leaning on his uncle. "What are you talking about? What wall?"

A part of him knew that he should be bothered that he was showing so much weakness—heck, even having the Avatar all concerned and up in his face should have bothered him—but there were more important things to worry about. Like why Katara seemed to think there was some kind of barricade of flames inside his mind.

Iroh frowned and pressed his finger against the centre of Zuko's forehead. "Is this where you felt the wall at its strongest?"

"Yes," she said slowly, "but how did you know?"

"Because that is where the Light chakra can be found. I suspect you will find that the meridian paths along the Sound chakra in his throat have also been manipulated in such a way as to create a permanent knot of chi."

Aang scratched his chin. "Um, what are chakras?"

"I'm surprised you don't know," Iroh said. "The Air Nomads were advocates of the belief that a person could only access their full potential by unlocking the seven chakras. However, most people aren't aware that chakras exist, let alone that it is important to keep them unblocked."

Zuko clenched his jaw. "That's great, but what do these chakra things have to do with me?"

Iroh once more pressed his finger against the centre of his forehead. "The Light chakra deals with insight and is blocked with illusions." He touched the hollow at the base of Zuko's throat. "The Sound chakra deals with truth and is blocked with lies. Of course, this is just speculation, but if you were a bender who could manipulate the chi within another person—for example, like what a healer does—then it is possible that with enough power you could actively sabotage the meridian paths of that person to block these two chakras in such a way that they could become a weapon inside the mind."

Aang blinked. "Um, yeah. You lost me."

Katara chewed her bottom lip. "I think I get it. Basically, if you tap into the meridian paths at their core, you can use the chakras to block the flow of energy and create negative effects."

Iroh nodded. "Correct."

A crease formed on her brow. "So, what you're saying is that someone purposely sabotaged Zuko's Sound and Light chakras to give him amnesia. That's why I keep getting stopped by that wall, because the pathways haven't been fully opened yet."

"So it would seem," Iroh said. "However, as I mentioned, this is all just speculation. The only person who could tell you for certain is the one who did the damage in the first place."

"But who would do such a thing?" Aang mused, propping his chin on his hands.

"Me," Zuko said, realising the truth. "I did this to myself, though I doubt I had any idea of what I was doing at the time."

He'd been too much in shock back then, barely functioning after having been struck by lightning and reeling from the emotional blow of discovering that his father and sister did not care whether he lived or died. His only thought had been to strip away all the pain, to hide in a cocoon where nothing could hurt him. To survive. So that was exactly what he had done. He had built his very own cocoon of fire, shaping it tight around his mind so that the painful memories of his life as Prince Zuko could not surface. He had even managed to suppress his bending.

Beyond anything, he had just wanted to stop hurting.

"You understand now, don't you?" Iroh said gently.

Zuko bowed his head. "I understand."

Because now he knew that it was his own hands that had broken the vase and shattered who he had once been. More importantly, he was the only person who could repair the damage.

Zuko got back to his feet and dusted the dirt off his tunic. "Thanks for trying," he muttered to Katara.

He knew it wasn't her fault the healing had not worked. She had done her best; there was no way she could have known that he had twisted his own meridian paths into creating a wall around his memories.

"It's fine, but what will you do now?" she asked. "Your memories—"

He shrugged. "I guess I'll have to figure out a way to break down the wall myself. Either way, it's not your concern."

She looked like she was going to protest, but he did not wait for a response and headed back towards camp. He didn't feel like being prodded and questioned. He just wanted to be alone, to give himself time to digest what he had learnt and all of its implications. It was one thing to have someone remove the seal on his past; it was quite another to have to dig into that barely healed wound himself. Still, he knew that he would do it if that was what it took. He would not run. Not anymore. The only question that remained was how.

Somehow, he had to remove the wall of fire. Somehow, he had to learn the truth.

oOo

Later that night, Iroh approached Zuko and suggested they do some meditation exercises to see if that would help to remove the chi knots blocking his Sound and Light chakras. Zuko agreed that it was worth trying; however, as he sat before the burning sticks and tried to peel back the layers of flames that protected his memories, it soon became apparent that he was not making any headway. The wall was impenetrable, constructed with a firebending technique that he did not understand even if he was the architect.

"This is pointless!" he complained, flopping against the ground in exhaustion. "I've been meditating for hours and I've got nothing. Not even a fragment of memory."

Iroh frowned and stroked his beard. "Maybe what we need is a guru."

Zuko propped himself on his elbows. "A guru?" His eyes narrowed. "Wait, you're not talking about that crazy old relic we met at the Eastern Air Temple, are you?"

"The one who you thought was the Avatar." Iroh's mouth twitched into a smile. "I believe his name was Guru Pathik."

Zuko just groaned and ran his hands over his face. He would not forget that old man in a hurry. His misunderstanding had led to quite the inelegant struggle between the guru and his thirteen-year-old self, complete with a scrambling chase all over the temple, lots of hair and beard pulling, and a dirty bare foot being mushed against his face.

Even now, Zuko could remember how smug he had felt when he'd finally got the sprightly old man trussed and ready to be shipped back to the Fire Nation—that is until Iroh had come along and revealed that Guru Pathik was not the Avatar but a non-bending spiritual guide who happened to live at the temple. Then it had just got awkward.

Iroh gathered the blackened stumps of sticks that they had been using to act as meditation candles. "I know you had some difficulties with Guru Pathik, but it has been three years since then. Besides, he did say that he forgave you for trying to capture him."

"Oh, I remember," Zuko muttered. "He forced that nasty drink on us as a token of friendship."

"The onion and banana juice?" Iroh made a humming sound in the back of his throat. "I thought it was quite tasty."

"You would."

Iroh chuckled and got to his feet. "Well, regardless, I do believe that Guru Pathik should know a way to unblock your chakras. He did say that he had studied with the Air Nomads and has dedicated his life to understanding the energy within all life forms. If anyone can help you to remove the barrier sealing your memories, it will be him."

Zuko sighed and frowned up at the stars. "I guess."

From his research, he knew that the Air Nomads had once been the spiritual leaders of the world. However, Aang was the only airbender left now: a twelve-year-old boy who had not even completed his spiritual training. That just left Guru Pathik. It was hardly a thrilling realisation, but Zuko didn't have the luxury of being picky. He needed to learn how to control his bending fast before any further damage could be done. It was a truth he could no longer ignore. Even now, he could barely produce a proper flame and he had learnt that it was his fire healing that had caused him to lose his memories.

_"Perhaps this would explain the label of the benders being 'Children'. Few seemed to survive to adulthood."_

Zuko closed his eyes, remembering what Shang had written on the scroll about fire healers. "Tell me, Uncle," he said softly. "Do you think this will ever get easier?"

"What do you mean?"

He sat up and faced his uncle, though he didn't quite make eye contact. "I just wonder sometimes what the point of all this is. I've always had to struggle and fight and I've accepted that because I know it has made me stronger. It's just ... I just ..." He frowned and stared at his hands, examining the tiny scars and callouses. "Sometimes I wish it didn't always have to be so hard."

Iroh pulled him into his arms without a word, ignoring the way Zuko stiffened in instinctive resistance. "I know it seems that life has dealt you a string of cruel blows," Iroh murmured, "but a gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials." He pulled back to meet Zuko's gaze. "There is a bright destiny awaiting you, my nephew. I'm sure of it."

"How can you say that?" Zuko demanded. "I'm a banished prince with nothing to my name and nowhere to go. I don't even know who I am any more, let alone what I'm doing."

"Yet here you are still pressing forward."

Zuko blinked. "What?"

A warm smile curved Iroh's lips. "Nephew, I know that you feel like you've lost your purpose and are no longer certain of where you stand in the world, but I have never been more proud of you."

Zuko averted his face. "Don't patronise me."

"I'm not patronising you." Iroh gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "I have watched you face trials that would make the bravest of men falter. You have suffered so much, confronted insurmountable odds not once but countless times, yet you never chose to take the easy road. You just pushed yourself even harder." He shook his head. "Sometimes I almost wished that you would give up, if only to spare yourself the pain."

"I couldn't just give up. You were the one who told me not to give up without a fight."

"And that's what makes you so special. You see an obstacle that others would call impossible, yet you always find a way to overcome it. That is a rare talent."

Zuko slipped out of his uncle's grasp. "I just did what I had to do. I wasn't born lucky like Azula."

"Then the spirits did her a disservice."

Again, all Zuko could do was blink. Iroh's smile widened and he began to tell a story about a man who found a butterfly struggling to break from its cocoon. The little creature pushed with all its might, but it was a slow, gruelling process and the butterfly didn't seem to make much progress. Taking pity, the man took a knife and carefully created an opening for the butterfly to escape. When it emerged, however, its body was larger than normal and its wings small and fragile.

"The man thought that he had been helping the butterfly," Iroh said solemnly, "but by creating that opening in the cocoon, he had not given the butterfly a chance to fully develop or to build up the strength it needed. Instead, he had stunted its growth and made it impossible for the creature to fly."

Zuko stared at his hands. He knew what his uncle was trying to say. Adversity was necessary for growth. Just as Zuko had always recognised, the endless obstacles and trials that arose in his life had helped him to become strong, they had helped him to become durable. Where others gave up, he persevered. When the odds became unreasonable, he made his own luck. It was painful and exhausting, but his uncle wanted him to believe that there was purpose to the struggle. His uncle wanted him to believe that there was an end: a bright destiny that awaited him on the other side of the cocoon.

"You are far stronger than you realise," Iroh said, meeting his nephew's gaze. "There is nothing that can hold you back once you set your mind to it. That's why I know you'll succeed now." He gripped Zuko by the shoulder. "We shall find the truth about the Children of the Undying Fire, of that I can promise."

Zuko let out a small breath. "Thank you, Uncle."

Iroh patted his shoulder fondly and then suggested that he get some rest. "Let me deal with the travel arrangements."

A crease formed on Zuko's brow. "Travel arrangements?"

"Guru Pathik is probably still living at the Eastern Air Temple. That is not far from where we are. I'm sure Avatar Aang and his friends will be willing to take us there if I ask."

Zuko scrunched his nose. He didn't like that they had to rely on the Avatar so much. He didn't like relying on people period. Still, the logical part of his brain told him that getting to an Air Nomad temple on a flying bison would be much easier than the precarious mountain scaling he had been forced to do as a thirteen year old. He just didn't know how he felt about spending more time with the group.

"Fine," Zuko said tiredly. "Do what you have to do."

Iroh nodded and headed back towards the campfire where the others were gathered. His request must have been received well, for the next morning they were all piling on top of Appa and flying towards the Eastern Air Temple. Sokka grumbled a bit about how they needed to get to Ba Sing Se, but there wasn't much vehemence in his complaints. For whatever reason, this band of mismatched friends actually wanted to help Zuko learn the truth about his bending, as if it was just as important as their own quest.

It was so confusing, though a part of Zuko knew that he had mostly Aang to thank for the ease in which he and his uncle were now travelling. That kid would jump at any chance to offer his assistance; he had been doing so from the moment Zuko had healed him.

_"If we had known each other back then, do you think we could have been friends?"_

Zuko frowned and stared at the boy who had unwittingly helped to shape the last three years of his life. He still had no answer.

* * *

"A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials" is taken from a Chinese proverb. Or so google tells me. The butterfly story is also loosely based on something I heard once, though I can't remember where I heard it or even who said it. Oh well.

Also, I suspect there will be a few of you who might question my use of chakras/energy manipulation in this chapter. My defence is this: if Legend of Korra can use bloodbending to block a person's bending then I don't think it's a stretch that Zuko could use his bending in the way I described here.


	21. The Eastern Air Temple

There was a strange solemnity to the group's arrival at the Eastern Air Temple. The giant, multi-spired construction was beautiful in its vastness, spreading out over the three pinnacles in a rambling sprawl of bridges and buildings. However, the taint of the war was also apparent. Some of the walls were charred and crumbling. Many of the roofs had caved in while statues lay scattered and broken in the courtyards as if to mimic the bodies of those who had fallen to Sozin's fire. Zuko had never really thought about how much destruction his nation had caused when he had first come to the temple. He felt it now.

Aang looked so sad. The kid was always so chirpy and full of energy—annoyingly so—but now there was none of that buoyancy. Instead, Aang ran his hands along the worn stone and seemed to slip into the past. He told them that this was where he had first met Appa. He told them that the temple had once been full of nuns, flying bisons, and airbenders in training. It had been the centre of spirituality for his people.

"I hate how quiet it is," Aang mumbled, hunching his shoulders. "It was never meant to be like this."

Zuko said nothing. He felt like an intruder on a private moment. His great-grandfather was the one who had ordered the slaughter of the Air Nomads; it would be wrong for him to say anything. Even Iroh looked a bit at a loss as to how to make the situation better. Empty platitudes wouldn't bring the airbenders back. Nothing could bring them back. Fortunately, Katara stepped in to provide the comfort that was needed.

"I'm sorry, Aang," she said, and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "I know how hard this is for you."

Aang leaned into her, grateful for the support. Sokka reached over to squeeze the boy's shoulder and there was just this moment of togetherness for the three of them. Even Toph got in on the action and made a sassy remark that must have been her version of a hug, because though she called Aang "Twinkletoes" and punched him in the arm, he actually smiled.

Zuko felt a pang of something as he watched the friends interact. It wasn't quite jealously. He didn't know how to describe the feeling.

They just made it look so effortless.

Being friends. Caring for one another. It seemed so natural and easy for them. Zuko wondered if it had ever been that way for him. From what he could remember, he had barely had any interaction with boys his age while living at the palace. Azula had her two friends, Mai and Ty Lee, and sometimes he had been cajoled into playing with them, but they had never felt like his friends. Not really.

_But the Avatar does want to be your friend_, a small voice reminded him.

Aang pulled away from Katara and faced Zuko with a smile. The traces of grief were still there in his expression, but the smile was genuine enough. "Well, shall we look for this guru guy?"

"No need," Iroh said, gazing at a point beyond the small group. "He has already found us."

Zuko turned his head to see an old man standing in the shadow of the main temple. The loose fabric of his robe fluttered in the wind, bright against the stone backdrop of his surroundings. Same yellow garb, same long beard. The guru looked just as ancient as Zuko remembered, like some relic pulled out from a forgotten past. In a way, it was true. The guru had been alive for over a hundred years. He had seen the war begin, perhaps had even witnessed the very fire that had destroyed the temple in which they now stood. It was no wonder that Zuko had once mistaken him for the Avatar.

"I have been waiting for you, Prince Zuko," Guru Pathik said, stepping into the light.

Zuko's brow furrowed. "Waiting for me?"

"Yes. You and the Avatar both."

The two boys exchanged a confused glance. Guru Pathik smiled and explained that the spirits had told him in his dreams that they would come. As a spiritual brother to the Air Nomads, it had long been his call to give clarity and peace to those who walked the path of uncertainty. It was this need that had brought them to him.

"Right now your hearts and minds are clouded," he said, meeting each of their eyes. "I shall teach you to find balance within yourself so that you may become the masters of your own destiny." A smile curved his lips. "You will no longer need to live in fear of your past"—his gaze flicked to Aang—"or your own abilities."

Aang's eyes widened. "Wait, are you saying you can teach me how to control the Avatar State?"

The guru nodded.

Aang's face cracked into a grin. He turned to Zuko. "Isn't this great? I'm so glad we came here!"

Zuko made a noncommittal sound. His own mind was whirling with the possibilities. From what the guru was saying, it sounded like doing this "finding balance" thing could really be the solution to all of his problems. Still, something in him whispered that it seemed too easy. There had to be a catch.

"Will this really work?" he asked.

Guru Pathik held his gaze solemnly. "That is up to you. I can only show you the way. You alone must open the seven chakras to attain enlightenment."

Zuko swallowed. Even Aang, who had been babbling excitedly to the others, lost some of his energy at the sudden shift in mood. It seemed that finding balance within themselves was not going to be a simple task.

"Do not be dismayed," Guru Pathik said. "Though opening the seven chakras is an intense experience, the journey is also only as difficult as you let it be. I have faith in each of you."

Aang brightened, cheered by the vote of confidence. Katara and the others chimed in to offer their own words of support, but Zuko found himself lingering in self-doubt. He had come to the guru to unlock his memories and stop running from his past. It was something that he knew he had to do. It just seemed so much harder now, especially when the not-quite-supressed words from his childhood were already sneaking into his thoughts like poison, trying to weaken his resolve.

_"The boy is weak."_

_"A miserable failure."_

_"Worthless."_

Iroh placed his hand on Zuko's shoulder. Just like that the hurtful words faded away. "You can do this, Nephew."

Zuko nodded, letting out a small breath. His uncle was right. No matter how much he had failed in the past, he had still kept pushing forward. He had become strong. There was no way he was going to back down now.

Guru Pathik inclined his head in a formal bow. "Then let us begin."

Aang's eyes widened. "You mean we're going to start unlocking those chakra things right now?"

"All journeys must begin somewhere," the guru responded serenely. "For you, the first step to gaining balance begins with this." He unearthed three cups from behind his back, which he must have been holding the whole time they had been talking. Now it made sense why he had kept his hands hidden.

Zuko scrunched his nose at the yellowish liquid. "That isn't—"

"Ugh!" Aang wiped his mouth and stared at the cup from which he had just sipped. "It tastes like onion and banana juice!"

Guru Pathik smiled. "That's because it is." He drained his drink and then placed the empty cup on his head so that it looked like a hat. "Yum, yum!"

Zuko resisted the urge to facepalm. Guru Pathik definitely had not changed. His only consolation was that everyone else had to suffer along with him. Katara did a brave job of trying to drink the juice without pulling expressions of distaste while Sokka just pinched his nose and downed the lot in one gulp. Toph didn't seem too troubled, but Zuko later found out that she had only pretended to drink (and then had tossed the contents into Appa's yawning mouth). Iroh was the only one who actually enjoyed the guru's favourite beverage. Perhaps it was an old man thing.

In any case, onion and banana juice was consumed and then the guru led Zuko and Aang to a stream that flowed from a rocky crevice into a group of circular pools. The rest of their travelling companions had been gently dismissed. It wasn't that Guru Pathik wanted to make them feel unwelcome; he just made it clear that the two boys could not afford distractions while unlocking the seven chakras. That meant no audience.

As such, Katara, Sokka, Toph and Iroh were left to relax at the temple with Appa and Momo until the process was finished. Zuko had to admit that he was a bit jealous. The moment the guru had started talking about swirling pools of energy and clearing out emotional muck, Zuko knew that he was not going to enjoy unlocking his chakras.

Zuko had never been a particularly spiritual person. He preferred to focus on tangible goals and ignore everything else. He didn't even like thinking about himself too much or, indeed, doing any kind of introspection. Perhaps that was why he had fallen apart so badly when he had given up on capturing the Avatar. With no goal to direct his thoughts and keep him occupied, he had been left to deal with the full force of his emotions. It was like walking into a garden after leaving it untended for years: a tangle of feelings and thoughts that was so overgrown and choked with weeds that he hadn't known where to begin in putting it back in order.

Now the Guru was telling him that he had to uproot all of the negative muck that remained within him if he wanted to unlock the seven chakras. His body had to become clean and pure to allow the energy to flow, and to do that his emotions also needed to be clean and pure.

"Each pool of the seven chakras has a purpose and can be blocked by a specific kind of emotional muck," Guru Pathik explained. "I will show you how to clear the paths between the pools of energy, but be warned. Once you begin the process, you cannot stop until all seven are open." He met their gazes steadily. "Are you ready?"

Aang let out a small breath. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"And you, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko honestly did not know if he would be able to do as the guru asked, not when he was so conscious of his doubts and insecurities. All he knew was that he didn't want to give up. The secrets to his past and the key to his future were both locked inside the wall of fire that guarded his memories. To access them, he had to unlock the chakras. It was as simple as that.

"I'm ready," Zuko answered.

Guru Pathik nodded in satisfaction. He guided them deeper into the rocks, leading them to a misty cavern located beneath the temple. Moss grew on the stone in patches and the air was dank and tinged with the bitter scent of soil. Zuko was reminded of the underground caverns where the refugees had hid in Omashu, only less claustrophobic. At least in this cavern there was still natural light shining through to let them see their surroundings.

"Please, sit," Guru Pathik said, gesturing to the ground.

The two boys sat opposite the guru in lotus position, following his example. Guru Pathik picked up a handful of dirt and let it slip through his fingers like sand. "First we will open the Earth chakra, which is located at the base of the spine. It deals with survival and is blocked by fear."

Zuko felt Aang tense beside him.

"What are you most afraid of?" Guru Pathik continued in a serene voice. "Let your fears become clear to you."

Inhaling deeply, Zuko closed his eyes and opened his mind to the fear he kept buried within. He'd never really thought about what scared him the most. He'd tried not to think about his fears period. Perhaps it was because he knew there were so many things that frightened him. They swirled before him now like splotches of terrifying colour: the fear of being abandoned, the fear he felt towards his healing powers and of losing his bending and identity. The inexplicable panic that froze his body whenever he found himself blind and unable to move, because it was just like what had happened after the Agni Kai.

_"Don't worry, Zuzu. I just want to see how your fire works."_

Zuko's breathing sharpened. He could smell the healing herbs and burnt flesh. He could hear Azula's voice telling him to heal himself even as the blade cut into his skin. He had been so helpless. He had been in so much pain. It was only later that he had learnt the anaesthetic used during his treatment had still been in effect, despite his mind being fully conscious. Just thinking about how trapped he had felt in that room made his heart spike with anxiety. Still, even as he acknowledged the fear, other images were already clamouring to take the memory's place.

He was scared of being helpless, but his greatest fear went so much deeper than that.

His body tensed as the image of his family burned bright in his mind. Yes, there was the crux of the matter. The tendrils of terror that enclosed his heart whispered as much. For all the physical pain and near-death experiences he had suffered, the fear that shook him to the core was the thought that the awful words from his past might be true: that he would always be a failure, that no amount of struggling or proving himself worthy would change anything because he would never amount to anything.

_"Even the Fire Lord sees that boy as worthless. Mark my words, Prince Zuko will not last long as the heir. These weak royals are always got rid of in some way or another."_

His hands trembled. The ugly whispers continued, telling him that he wasn't important. Azula was the lucky one; he was just lucky to be born. Some of his family members had been cruel to him at times, but that was just because he was a burden. An unwanted thing that only caused problems.

_"Everything I've done, I've done to protect you."_

His mother had been forced to leave because of him. Even his uncle had ended up in danger countless times because Zuko could never seem to do anything right. There was no saying when Iroh would get tired of it. Just by existing, Zuko had ruined so much. He had destroyed his family. He was scared of what else he might destroy.

_"Because you are weak,"_ his father and sister told him, closing in like wraiths formed out of mist.

_"Because you are worthless,"_ his grandfather agreed.

_"Because you only cause pain to those who are forced to help you,"_ his mother whispered.

_"Because you are a failure,"_ his uncle finished.

Zuko inhaled a shuddery breath. His throat burned with unshed tears, though that was nothing to the pain his family had nailed into his heart with every word. The brutal statements kept echoing in his ears like funeral bells. Weak. Worthless. Burden. Failure. It was crippling to listen to and made him want to curl into a ball and hide, if only so he wouldn't have to see the disappointment confronting him from every angle.

"Do not let the fear crush you."

Guru Pathik's voice slipped through the tormenting echoes. Aang suddenly let out a scream, but Zuko was too trapped in his own visions to spare a thought for the younger boy. He felt so insignificant, so small. The more he listened to the voices, the harder it was to remember his uncle's proverbs or that he could shape his own future. The visions told him that he was just lying to himself in thinking that he had got stronger. All of his struggles had achieved nothing. If anything, he was worse off now than he had ever been.

_"Failure",_ his family hissed in agreement.

Zuko clamped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound.

"Your visions are not real," Guru Pathik said calmly. "What you are seeing are the manifestations of your own fears. Accept that they exist and let them flow down the creek."

Zuko swallowed and lowered his hands back to his lap. He could still hear his family's voices digging nails into his heart, but this time he let them come. Weak, worthless, burden, failure. These were the words that held him frozen, that poisoned him from the inside and stopped him from truly being able to live or to even see the possibilities right in front of him. To survive, he had to find a way to let go of the soul-crushing fear. It was just so hard.

_"I believe in you, Zuko,"_ Lu Ten's voice whispered in his ear. _"Do you believe in yourself?"_

Zuko let out a breath. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find himself back in the cavern. Gone were the wraith-like forms of his family, the palace, and the hurtful words. All was silent. Calm. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, feeling a lightness in his body that had not been there before. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aang doing the same.

"You have opened your Earth chakras," Guru Pathik said.

Aang glanced at Zuko with a relieved grin. Without intending it, Zuko felt the corners of his mouth twitch into an answering smile. They had done it. They had actually done it.

"Come," Guru Pathik said, getting to his feet. "The next chakra calls."

He led the boys out of the cavern, following a path along the rocks until they came to an alcove that thundered with the sound of rushing water. The reason for the noise was the waterfall tumbling down from above, which created a curtain of frothy white that spanned the entire platform.

Guru Pathik sat down in front of the waterfall and gestured for the boys to do the same. "Next is the—"

"Water chakra?" Aang guessed.

The guru smiled. "Brilliant! Maybe one day you will be a guru too."

Aang rubbed the base of his neck, looking a little pleased. Guru Pathik's tone became more serious as he continued with his explanation. He told them that the Water chakra dealt with pleasure and was blocked by guilt. Zuko felt a twinge between his shoulder blades as if the knot he had never quite managed to ease had grown to mammoth proportions, reaching all the way down to his pelvis where the second chakra was located.

"Look at all the guilt which burdens you," the guru said softly. "What do you blame yourself for?"

That was easy. Zuko had stolen, lied, hurt people, and in general acted completely against his principles for the sake of getting what he wanted.

_"You're a cruel, horrible person! All you've ever cared about is capturing Aang!"_

He winced as Katara's words pierced through his heart, resounding with truth. She had been right. He had not cared about anything else. He had steeled his heart to the pain he was inflicting so that nothing, not even his own natural instinct to heal instead of harm, could hold him back.

"What do you see?" the guru prompted.

"I ran away," Aang said in a small voice. "I hurt all those people while in the Avatar State."

"And you, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko said nothing. His visions showed him how much damage he had caused to those who had hindered his path: their homes, their livelihoods, their lives. It was an endless string of terrible deeds. It was a damning, awful truth.

"I ignored my conscience," he said quietly. "I allowed myself to believe that the end would justify the means, even though I knew in my heart what I was doing was wrong."

Aang stared at him with wide eyes. Zuko lowered his head and tried not to dwell on the final image he had seen in his mind.

_"Never forget who you are."_

Guilt tightened around his heart like a fist made of stone. His mother would be so disappointed if she could see him now.

Guru Pathik stared at each of the boys, his expression solemn. "Accept the reality that these things happened, but do not let them cloud and poison your energy. If you are to be a positive influence on the world, you need to forgive yourself."

Aang drew a deep breath and exhaled. Zuko could almost feel the chakra opening in Aang, like a flow of warmth and light. He had no such luck with his own. The guilt was a weight on his chest, his heart, his very soul. It told him that what he had done was unforgivable.

"Prince Zuko, you must let it go," Guru Pathik urged. "Let the guilt flow down the creek."

Zuko's hands trembled. "I can't." His voice was anguished. Broken. There was no way that he could forgive himself. Not after all he had done.

Two scrawny arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him close. It was such a shock that Zuko didn't think to pull away. He sat there frozen, conscious that he was being hugged by the one person he had once sworn to capture. He had burnt villages for this boy; he had kidnapped Katara, made bargains with pirates, hunted the Avatar with all the determination of a bloodhound-wolf. Yet here Aang was holding him close as if to say it was okay. As if to say that none of that mattered now because Aang had forgiven him, and he wanted Zuko to let it go.

"Just let it go," Aang murmured. "You don't need to carry this burden with you anymore. Everyone knows that you have changed."

Zuko's breath caught. New images flashed through his mind: Katara handing him a bowl of rice because she had noticed he had not been eating; Sokka grinning and calling him stupid names, yet there had been no malice in his tone. Unexpected acts of kindness. Simple gestures to help him feel at ease. It had been more than he deserved. Even Momo and Appa had tried to welcome him into the group in their own way.

_"Everyone knows that you have changed."_

Zuko pulled back from Aang to meet the grey eyes that stared so solemnly into his own. No further words needed to be said. Aang stepped back as if to say, "Go ahead, do what you need to do". So Zuko did. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he imagined collecting all of his guilt into one ugly ball—all the self-loathing, all the regret. Then he exhaled and simply let it go. It was as if a rusted dam had been opened. The energy began to flow again, washing away all the negative emotions that had been trapped inside. It told him that what he had done in his past did not determine who he was now.

It told him that he was forgiven.

Guru Pathik smiled at Zuko. "Well done. You have opened the second chakra."

Zuko let his head fall back, sighing in relief. That had been more difficult than he had expected. Even his body felt a bit jittery, though it wasn't a bad feeling. More just different. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Aang was grinning goofily at him. Zuko reached over and flicked him in his arrow-tattooed forehead.

"Hey," Aang complained, rubbing his head. "Why'd you do that for?"

"Because you were getting ideas," Zuko said, though he wasn't quite able to disguise the hint of affection in his tone.

This kid had saved him, whether Aang realised it or not. Zuko didn't know if he would have been able to open the second chakra without Aang's support. It was a humbling realisation, but that didn't mean he was going to start hugging him or singing songs about peace and rainbows.

Guru Pathik put an end to their conversation by handing them fresh cups of banana and onion juice. The boys groaned in unison, but their protests went ignored. Instead, they were told to drink up.

"It will replenish your strength," Guru Pathik promised.

"More like replenish my urge to vomit," Zuko muttered.

Aang sniggered and nudged him in the ribs. "Good one."

Guru Pathik remained unmoved. He just stared at them both until their cups were drained. Once he was satisfied, he guided them out of the gulch and towards a set of misty peaks that stood near the temple. Zuko wondered why they had come to such an out of the way place, but then they broke through the fog and he felt his element wash over him in golden waves.

"Ah," he said, closing his eyes in appreciation.

Guru Pathik chuckled. "Can you guess what comes next, Prince Zuko?"

"The Fire chakra," Zuko answered without hesitation.

The guru nodded and sat on the narrow ledge. The boys followed suit, once more settling themselves into a lotus position.

"As you have guessed," Guru Pathik said, "the third pool is the Fire chakra, located in the stomach. This chakra deals with willpower and is blocked by shame." His voice took on a serene quality, guiding them into opening their minds. "What are you ashamed of? What are your biggest disappointments in yourself?"

Zuko didn't have to think very hard. He was ashamed of what he had become: a banished prince with no home and no direction. He was ashamed that he had let a whole battalion of new recruits die because he had been too inexperienced in politics to persuade his father and the generals to spare them. Mostly, he was ashamed that he had never been able to live up to his role of Crown Prince. Lu Ten would have done so much better.

"I betrayed my people," Zuko admitted, lowering his head. "It was my duty to protect them, but instead I turned my back on them." He sighed and averted his face. "Even if I had the choice now, I don't know if I would want to go back. All the Fire Nation has done is hurt people."

"Prince Zuko," Guru Pathik said gently, "you will never find balance if you deny your heritage. You _are_ Fire Nation and you _are_ a prince."

Zuko raised his head. "But the only way I can return is if I capture the Avatar, and I can't do that. I won't sacrifice my conscience for the empty honour my father promised me, not even for the Fire Nation." A crease formed on his brow. "Besides, Father doesn't want me back. He tried to have me imprisoned."

"Perhaps," the guru acknowledged, "but you seem to be under the misapprehension that refusing to follow the Fire Lord also means refusing your ties to the Fire Nation."

Zuko's eyes widened a fraction. That was true. In his mind, he had been unable to separate his feelings for the Fire Nation and his family. When he had chosen to give up on capturing the Avatar, he had felt like he was also giving up on the Fire Nation. Now that he thought about it, though, that wasn't really true. All he had done was refuse to obey his father's order. It wasn't as if he had stopped caring about the people themselves. Wasn't that why he felt shame in the first place?

_"You are Fire Nation and you are a prince."_

Zuko smiled and felt the energy in his stomach flow unhindered. He had opened the third chakra. Not long after, Aang did the same, though with much less grace. The guru commented that Aang's chakra had opened less like a flowing creek and more like a burping bison. As if to give credit to the claim, Aang let out a loud belch.

"Tastes like onion and bananas, but strangely something else." Aang frowned up at his two companions. "Pickles?"

Guru Pathik shrugged. Zuko scrunched his nose in distaste. The burp even smelt like onions and bananas. Gross. Still, as they headed towards their next destination, Zuko found himself wondering about what Aang had confessed while trying to open the third chakra. Maybe it was the reason that Aang's chakra had opened so strangely.

"Do you really hate firebending that much?" he asked.

He remembered the conversation they'd had after fighting Zhao, when Aang admitted that he had burnt Katara after losing control of his bending. Zuko had done his best to comfort the boy back then, but somehow they'd just ended up arguing about his own healing abilities. Zuko thought he might have pulled his swords out on Aang and told him to get lost as well. Wow, he really was useless at this "being friendly" thing.

Aang heaved a sigh. "It's not that I hate it. I just …" He shrugged and let the sentence hang. "Anyway, you don't need to worry. Like Guru Pathik said, I'm the Avatar and that means I'm a firebender as well."

"You don't sound too thrilled."

Aang scowled. "My third chakra is open, isn't it?"

Zuko couldn't quite repress a smile. Looking at a grumpy Aang was like looking at a grumpy koala-sheep. There was no bite to the expression. "Alright, Avatar," he said with a shrug of his own, "but just so you know, firebending itself isn't a bad thing."

After all, fire was life. It fuelled a person's passions, their ability to move forward, and strengthened their resolve. That was why the Fire chakra was linked with willpower. Once embraced, a person could do anything if they put their mind to it.

Aang suddenly wiggled his eyebrows. "Hey, you're trying to cheer me up, aren't you?" His goofy grin appeared. "I guess this means we really are friends now."

Zuko flicked him in the forehead again. "Keep walking."

Without a second glance, he quickened his pace until he had caught up to the guru. Not that it mattered. He didn't need to look behind him to know that Aang was still grinning. Perhaps it was because his own actions lacked bite.

Damn it. He really was getting soft.


	22. Unconditional

Katara stood on one of the balconies overlooking the mountains that surrounded the Eastern Air Temple. A flutter of wings signalled Momo's arrival. She smiled and stroked his ears, but a few seconds later the corners of her mouth were drooping. Hours had passed, but there had been no word from Aang or Zuko. She wished she knew what was happening. Waiting in suspense like this was awful. She didn't know much about chakras, but it had sounded like unlocking them was not an easy task. If only she could have gone with the boys to support them. Aang was so young, and Zuko ...

A crease marred her brow. Zuko. How strange it was that she should feel concern for him. Prince of her enemies. Prince of the nation that had murdered her mother. A violent, unrelenting firebender who had kidnapped her, taunted her, done so many terrible things. By rights, she should hate him. Except she couldn't. She just couldn't. Not when she saw for herself how lost and heartbreakingly human he was underneath all that fierceness. Not when she felt his struggles through the healing touch of her energy: a sorrow so deep that he had fortified his own mind against the pain and locked away his memories.

"I think I understand now, Momo," she murmured.

Aang had always been so insistent that Zuko was worth helping. Worth giving a chance. Now she could see what had driven him to such lengths.

"He really is just like Lee," she said, leaning on the railing. "Don't you think?"

Momo tilted his head to the side and made chittering noises. Right. She was talking to a lemur.

Katara sighed and rested her chin on her cupped palms, gazing up at the fire-coloured sky. "I hope they're both alright."

"They'll be fine."

She jumped and turned to see Sokka standing underneath the stone archway that led towards the main part of the temple. He grinned and tossed her a moon peach.

"Found this on the other side of the courtyard," he said, taking a bite out of the one he still held in his hand. "There's a whole bunch of fruit trees over there."

Katara poked the lemur in his furry stomach. "Is that why you're looking so fat, hrm?"

Momo chirruped happily. No doubt he had been gorging himself on every fruity thing he could find.

She smiled and shifted her gaze back to her brother. "I don't suppose you caught sight of Aang and Zuko while you were exploring?"

Sokka shook his head. "Toph reckons she felt them moving towards the northern part of the temple." He scratched his chin. "I guess this chakra thing is more complicated than we thought. Sounds like they've been changing location quite a bit, if Toph's feet are to be believed."

Katara frowned at the moon peach in her hand. "I guess there really is nothing we can do except wait."

"Seems like it. Hopefully, they won't take much longer. We need to get to Ba Sing Se as soon as possible so we can inform the Earth King about the eclipse. This could be a major turning point for us in the war if the plan works."

She made a noncommittal sound. Her brother was right, but she was too busy fretting over Aang and Zuko to worry about such grand matters as defeating the Fire Lord. So much time had passed since the guru had first led the boys away. Was it supposed to take this long to unlock chakras?

Sokka pursed his lips. "Hey, don't look so down. I told you they'll be fine. Aang's a tough little guy, and Zuko's no pushover either."

Katara ran her finger over the fuzzy skin that coated the moon peach. "It's not about strength, though, is it?"

There was a pause as they both considered what it meant to unlock the seven chakras. A small breath escaped Sokka's lips.

"They'll be fine, Katara. Besides, aren't you the one who's always telling us we need to have faith and all that stuff?" He nudged her with his elbow. "Where'd all that optimism go?"

A reluctant smile curved her lips. "It's not that I don't believe in them. I just wish I could have been there too, you know? Especially for Aang. It's hard to sit around and wait when I know he must be out there struggling."

"You can't hold his hand forever. Eventually, he has to learn to confront his problems on his own."

A cheeky glint entered her eyes. "Wow, Sokka, that was almost wise. Have you been taking lessons from Iroh?"

"Hey!" He raised his chin. "I'm always full of wisdom, thank you very much. That's why I'm the Plan Guy."

"Sure, sure, Plan Guy." She patted him on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

Sokka made spluttering sounds, but Katara just bit into her moon peach and headed back inside temple. Her brother could be such a dork sometimes, but he was right about one thing: Aang wasn't just some goofy, twelve-year-old kid. Aang was the Avatar. If he couldn't learn to control his powers now or stand on his own feet, how was he supposed to fulfil his duty to the world when it really counted?

Her expression softened into a smile. _I know you can do this. Both of you._

oOo

The shrine was quiet. Light filtered through the wounds in the stone structure, touching upon the statues of crumbling Air Nuns and the three figures who sat on the ground. It would have been a tranquil scene had reminders of the temple massacre not been so present. Then again, perhaps that was the point. Zuko, Aang and Guru Pathik had come to the shrine to unlock the fourth chakra, which the guru explained was located in the heart. This chakra dealt with love and was blocked by grief. Zuko supposed that the feel of the shrine—that strange mixture of serenity and sorrow—helped to set the mood. Not that he was eager to get started. Accepting his fear, guilt and shame had been difficult enough.

"Look into your hearts," Guru Pathik said, and his voice softened into an invitation, becoming more of a guiding lilt. "Lay all your grief out in front of you."

Aang placed his fingers against his heart and closed his eyes. Zuko just bowed his head. Even if he didn't want to recall the memories, the images washed over him in waves of heartache: Cousin Lu Ten waving goodbye before he sailed off to die, his mother abandoning him with no real explanation. Despair, betrayal, loneliness. Zuko felt each loss like chains wrapping around his heart.

_"Face it, Zuzu. Mother might have loved you the most, but she's not around anymore. No one is here to protect you."_

Zuko's hands trembled. A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed, trying to ease the constricting feeling. It didn't work. Nothing did. The bitter taste of grief welled up inside him, reminding him of the years he had spent trying to be strong. Trying to pretend that he wasn't scared and that it was his own fault if he got hurt, because Father did love him in his own way. Somewhere. Somehow.

_"Dad's going to kill you. Really, he is."_

He clenched his jaw and his eyes prickled and burned, but no tears fell. He'd cried back then, though. After Lu Ten died. After his mother disappeared. Tears had wet his pillow almost every night, at least for the first week. He'd forced himself to stop after that. Even as a child, he'd known there was no point. Crying wouldn't bring back the people he loved. Crying wouldn't stop the sick fear from churning in his gut.

_"Azula always lies. Azula always lies. Azula always lies."_

How often he had said those words. Desperation. Denial. It had been all he'd had. His world had been crumbling—too fast for him to handle. That was why he had sworn to himself that he would earn his father's approval. It would all be alright then. Even if he was lonely and scared. Even if Grandfather, Mother and Lu Ten were gone. He just had to prove his worth and then Father would smile at him again. Father would be proud.

Except it hadn't been that easy. Azula was crazy. Uncle Iroh had become a recluse. The palace was a battleground of politics and hidden agendas, and there was nothing but a gaping hole where Zuko had once found comfort. No cheerful cousin to boost his spirits or have sword fights with him when the pressure got too much, no mother to sit with him by the turtle-duck pond or hold him in her arms.

_"No one is here to protect you."_

Zuko covered his face with his hands. The true form of his grief burned into his closed eyelids, giving him no place to hide. Forsaken. Banished. Betrayed. His was the grief of a child left to flounder: a hopeless struggle to stay afloat when all lifelines had been snatched away.

"You have indeed suffered much," Guru Pathik's voice said in his mind, slipping through Zuko like a warm breeze to part the clouds of grief. "But love is a form of energy, and it swirls all around us. Your mother and cousin were your world, but their loss has not left you completely bereft."

Zuko raised his head to see his mother and Lu Ten standing in front of him. Both were smiling, bathed in golden light. His heart ached at the sight.

"Love still exists in your heart," Guru Pathik said gently. "It has only been reshaped into the form of new love."

The figures of his mother and Lu Ten started to blur and merge like water colours fading into translucency. Then a new face began to form from the light: an old man aged from years of experience but whose reddish brown eyes were so warm and full of compassion. A man who told stupid jokes and obsessed over tea, but who had been willing to join Zuko in his banishment and travel with him for three years.

_"I am here for you. Lean on me. Let me share your burdens."_

Something wet trailed down Zuko's cheeks. It was true that his uncle had not always been there for him. Not as a child, and not when Zuko had found himself a prisoner at the North Pole or later lost his memories. But the fact remained that Iroh had come back. He was the only one who had ever come back.

_"You don't have to be alone anymore."_

Zuko closed his eyes. The grief that had kept his heart chained began to loosen like padlocks breaking apart. He was not alone. His anchor was still there, a father to him in everything but blood. It was enough.

"Very good," Guru Pathik praised. "You have opened your fourth chakra."

Zuko scrubbed the tears from his face, still feeling a bit raw and exposed, but somehow lighter at the same time. Next to him, Aang's cheeks also glistened with tears. The younger boy smiled and asked for some onion and banana juice. That request in itself made Zuko wonder if the latest chakra had somehow messed with Aang's head.

"I can't believe you actually wanted to drink that stuff," Zuko said later, as they headed for their next destination.

Aang shrugged. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."

"If you say so."

Aang grinned but didn't say anything further. The two boys fell quiet and followed the guru to a room that was dominated by a large statue of Avatar Yangchen. She sat lotus-style, her expression calm. Zuko felt dwarfed in comparison.

"Please sit," the guru said, taking up his own position in front of the statue.

Zuko sat on the ground. Aang threw him a quick, encouraging smile and did the same.

"The fifth in the chain is the Sound chakra," Guru Pathik explained. "This one is located in the throat. It deals with truth and is blocked by lies, the ones we tell ourselves."

Zuko's breath caught a little. He remembered that his uncle had said this was likely to be one of the chakras that he had subconsciously manipulated with his bending. A chakra blocked by the lies he told himself. But what lies were those? He had always been honest with himself, hadn't he? He'd always accepted every awful truth, because there was no point denying what he already knew.

_"Azula always lies."_

That's right. It was Azula who lied. It was—

_"Dad's going to kill you. Really, he is."_

Zuko's breathing sharpened. He kept coming back to that memory. It had just been Azula's way of hurting him, right? His father would have never actually killed him, even if Zuko had wondered in his more paranoid moments. Even if it was true that Grandfather Azulon had given the order because of some twisted, palace power game. None of them had really meant it.

_"I'm only telling you for your own good. I know, maybe you could find a nice Earth Kingdom family to adopt you."_

He clenched his hands into fists. So Azula was just a sick, sadistic liar who liked to see him suffer. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd tried to make him feel like their parents didn't love or even want him.

"Is that really what you see?" Guru Pathik's voice asked him, slipping through his thoughts. "Look closer."

So Zuko did. He saw the throne room where Fire Lord Azulon had glared down at Ozai, telling him that his punishment had scarcely begun. He saw himself running away in fear as the flames grew, unable to bear listening any longer. He saw the smile on Azula's face as she told him of the order that had been given, heard the words that were calculated to hurt, but this time he also saw something else.

_"I'm only telling you for your own good."_

That tone, that expression. It was not the same as her usual taunts. Of course, Azula had recovered a split-second later and tossed off a line about adopting him to the Earth Kingdom, but in that moment Azula had not lied. She had been concerned; she had just not known how to express it.

Zuko uncurled his fingers, though the crescent-shaped indents remained on his palms. He had spent so many years clinging to the mantra that his sister was a liar. It had been easier that way. Better to believe that Azula was just cruel and sadistic than to accept that she might have been telling the truth. Better to make her the monster than to doubt all of his family. Her words had rattled so many of his foundations. He would have crumbled if he had not made her the scapegoat of his denial.

_"It's because you're not normal, Zuzu. That's why mother has Shizue watch you so closely. They both think you're a monster."_

_"You're just a weak little boy who is not fit to be the heir. Even Father agrees with me. That's why he sent me to bring you back to the Fire Nation, because you'd failed one too many times and he was tired of you embarrassing him."_

Zuko pressed his hands to his face, fighting back the sting that prickled in the corners of his eyes. No, Azula did not always lie. Not when the truth would hurt more. She had snuck in vicious little barbs of her own, but the underlying messages had been true enough. A part of him had always known it too.

It was the reason he had been so desperate to prove his worth to his father.

It was the reason he had spent so much time with his mother before she had abandoned him.

He did not want to believe that his father cared so little for him. He did not want to believe that his mother had really ordered Shizue to watch him, as if he were indeed some aberration that needed to be kept under guard. Parents were supposed to love their children, not plot against them.

But Grandfather had died the night Azula had told him about the punishment, despite being in perfect health. Mother had told him before she'd vanished that everything she'd done had been for him, and that was on the same night she'd found Azula taunting him about what Father was planning. It was too much of a coincidence. Just like it made sense why Father had set him the task of capturing the Avatar to revoke his banishment.

_"You're just a weak little boy who is not fit to be the heir. Even Father agrees with me."_

Father had never wanted him to succeed. The Avatar hadn't been seen for a hundred years. The task was only ever meant to be a futile search designed to keep the unwanted heir far from the throne. It hurt to accept that—hurt far more than Zuko thought possible, considering he had already turned his back on his father—but that didn't change the fact it was probably true.

And if Azula had not lied about their father, it followed that she had not lied about their mother either. After all, Zuko had learnt that he was one of the Children of the Undying Fire, a type of bender who had been so feared and despised by the Fire Nation that one of the previous Fire Lords had sworn an oath to destroy them. Lies would not have added up so perfectly; the words did when viewed as the truth.

Zuko bowed his head. He didn't like it, wished he could shove the facts far from him as he had always done, but he couldn't hide any longer. The mantra of his childhood had only ever been a mantra of denial. Azula was cruel, but she did not always lie. His mother had probably committed treason to protect him—hence, why she had been forced to leave—which also meant that his father had indeed planned to kill him in accordance to Fire Lord Azulon's will. It all added up, the pieces of the puzzle fitting together with painful precision now that he was no longer refusing to look at the full picture. Maybe it was true that his mother had not thought of him as a monster, not in the way Azula had intended, but Shizue had undoubtedly watched him to make sure he never revealed his healing abilities.

They'd all had agendas. Every single one of them.

Zuko was conscious that he was trembling. He also realised that the chakra had not opened. An inner voice whispered that he had only taken the first step. There were still more lies that he needed to confront.

"No," he half-whimpered.

He was already in so much pain. He didn't want to deal with any more. Couldn't keep willingly digging thorns into his heart.

"You must keep going," Guru Pathik told him, as if reading his mind. "If you stop now, you will lock the chakra and the truth you seek will be lost."

Zuko shook his head, breaking out of the trance-like state that allowed him to access the lies tied to the Sound chakra. He couldn't force himself to see any more.

"Prince Zuko—"

"Don't," Zuko said, lowering his hands from his face. "Just don't."

The guru fell silent. Aang didn't get the hint and moved to crouch next to him. It seemed that Aang had already opened his Sound chakra.

_That's right, because he just lies to everyone else._

Zuko was a little startled by the snide thought. Most of the antagonism he'd felt towards the kid had diminished when Aang had helped him to unlock the Water chakra. Not intentionally, it must be noted. It was just difficult to hold a grudge against someone who had been willing to forgive him when he knew he hadn't deserved it. Didn't change how on edge he felt now, though.

"You want to talk about it?" Aang said softly.

Zuko shook his head.

Aang leaned back, resting on his palms. "You know, I never pegged you for a quitter."

"I'm not quitting."

"Then why did you stop?"

Zuko said nothing.

"Hey." Aang shuffled to his knees and leaned forward, meeting Zuko's gaze. "I know it's not easy, but it'll all be worth it once it's over, right? I mean, isn't that why you came here? You need to break the seal on your memories and opening the chakras is the only way to do that."

"You think I'm not aware of that?"

"Then why—"

"Because I hate it!"

There was a weighted pause as Aang just stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I can't do this right now," he said in a voice that sounded impossibly weary even to his own ears. "I just need a break."

"It will only get harder to continue the longer you put it off," Guru Pathik warned.

"Then I'll deal with that later," Zuko retorted, getting to his feet.

"Prince Zuko—"

"I know, alright!" Zuko inhaled a ragged breath, forcing himself to lower his voice. "Look, I know I should be trying to unlock my memories, but it's not that easy. My family—" He broke off, swallowing back the words that burned like acid in his throat.

"What about your family?" Aang prompted.

Zuko shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. He had an inkling of the lie that was holding him back and he knew that facing it would crush him. He wasn't ready for this truth.

Aang wrapped his arms around his scrawny legs, pulling his knees to his chest. "You know, the reason I got stuck in that iceberg for a hundred years is because I ran away from the truth. I didn't want to be the Avatar, you see."

Zuko stood perfectly still. He didn't want to show that he was listening, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away either.

"Being named as the Avatar ruined everything. My friends at the temple stopped playing with me. Then the elder monks tried to separate me from Gyatso. All they wanted was for me to train and train and train. Gyatso was the only one who thought it was okay for me to be a kid, and the elders didn't like that. They said he'd let his affection for me cloud his judgement, that he was keeping me from my destiny."

"So you ran away?" Zuko asked, then clamped his mouth shut. He hadn't meant to speak.

Aang nodded. "Yeah, I ran away. There was a storm and Appa and I got caught up in it. When I woke up, a hundred years had passed and all of the airbenders were dead."

Zuko stared at his hands. He had an odd urge to pat the kid on the shoulder or mutter something like, "That's rough, buddy", but he didn't do either of those things. Lucky for him, Aang didn't expect a response.

"I hated being the Avatar," Aang said with a grimness rarely heard from him. "That's why I lied to Katara and Sokka about it when they found me. I just wanted to be Aang. I didn't want to deal with the pressure. I didn't want to have to give up everything I cared about just to fulfil a destiny that I didn't even ask for."

"But they did find out."

"Yeah, when you showed up at the village."

Zuko shifted on his feet. "Oh."

"It doesn't matter," Aang said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I learnt something, you see. Maybe not then, but just before when I opened the Sound chakra." He hugged his knees closer to his chest. "I've told a lot of lies and run from a lot of things. I've let people down, and maybe that wouldn't be a big deal if I really was just a kid, but I'm not." He sucked in a breath, forcing a smile to his lips as he met Zuko's eyes. "I'm the Avatar. I have responsibilities and abilities that set me apart from others, and no amount of lies or running away will change that. It's just who I am."

Zuko swallowed past the sudden thickness in his throat. "I think I get what you're trying to say."

"Then you know I'm right. Living in denial doesn't solve anything, Zuko. Take it from me. I lost a hundred years because I was too scared to face my destiny. The truth might be hard to accept, but it's the only way to move forward. So, don't give up now. You've already come this far."

"Well said, Aang," the guru praised with a smile.

Zuko stared at them both. He knew that Aang was right, but that didn't stop the panic from building in his chest. Some truths were just too wounding.

Guru Pathik extended his smile to him. "Well, Prince Zuko? Will you try again?"

Zuko opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out. He swallowed, tried again.

"Maybe it would help if you talked about it?" Aang suggested. "You mentioned your family before."

"I ... I don't ..."

"Come on," Aang said, patting the space next to him in an inviting manner. "We're all ears."

Zuko let his shoulders slump and exhaled a heavy breath. He sat on the ground, though for a long time he said nothing. Aang and Guru Pathik did not push him; they just waited, letting him collect his thoughts. It helped.

"I'm afraid," he admitted, not looking at either of them. "I lost my memories because the pain I was feeling at the time was too much to handle. I just wanted it to stop, so I used my bending as a self-defence mechanism to seal everything away." His hands trembled slightly. "I think I understand why I did it now."

"What do you mean?" Aang asked.

"It was never about the lightning. I almost died, but that wasn't what made me go into shock. It was the fact that my own sister had tried to kill me. It was the fact that my father had ordered Azula to bring me back to the Fire Nation so I could be imprisoned even though, after three years of being banished, I finally had a real chance of getting my honour and title restored."

Guru Pathik closed his eyes in understanding. Aang was not so quick on the uptake.

"So you're worried because you have a horrible sister and father?" Aang questioned, scrunching his face in confusion. "I don't get it. I mean, I do get it must be hard for you to have a family like that, but you already accepted the truth about them when you stopped chasing me, right? You said as much to Katara, so why would you—"

"Because I didn't want to accept the truth about my feelings," Zuko said softly.

Aang furrowed his brow. "Your feelings?"

"If I didn't remember anything, there was no reason for me to care. Even when the memories started returning, it was like experiencing it from an outsider's perspective. I just saw what I wanted to see and I refused to let myself dig deeper."

"But you sensed the truth earlier, didn't you?" Guru Pathik said, watching him through those ancient eyes. "That's why you stopped."

Zuko nodded. "Azula has never hesitated to hurt me. My own father burned and banished me when I was thirteen and then tried to have me imprisoned when I became an inconvenience to him." He laughed hollowly. "I should hate them, right? I mean, even Grandfather just saw me as a Pai Sho piece to be used for palace politics. He ordered Father to kill me as punishment for plotting against my uncle, but Mother got to Grandfather first." A mirthless smile. "I guess she understood Father better than I did. I was naïve enough to think that he wouldn't go through with it."

Aang blinked and reached for him in a startled gesture, perhaps realising for the first time how messed up Zuko's childhood must have been. Zuko just laughed again, but then he shook his head, gripping his knees so hard that his knuckles burned white.

"I really should hate them," he said in a low voice. "It's just sick to care about people like that. I did hate them when I was still recovering my memories, but now I just ... I can't even ..." He swallowed, trembling all over. The stinging sensation in his eyes got worse.

"It's okay, Zuko," Aang said, placing his hand on his arm. "You can say it."

Zuko shook his head, blinking back tears. For a long moment he was silent, but once again Aang and the guru waited, letting him speak when he was ready. Their patience paid off.

"You know," he said almost wistfully, "I have these memories of being at Ember Island with my family. Azula laughs and plays in the waves with me, and my father watches us with a smile that's actually sincere." His voice broke a little and he took in a gulp of air. "There are others like that too—nice moments that aren't filled with tension or fear. Moments where I think we were actually happy." Tears rolled down his cheeks. He curled into himself, hiding his face against his knees. "It shouldn't make a difference, right?"

"Nothing is ever black and white," the guru said in his gentle way. "Especially not emotions. The heart is much too complex to be bound by logic."

Zuko nodded, accepting this statement. "I thought that realising my family didn't care whether I lived or died would be the worst part," he admitted. "The truth is that I stopped trying to regain my memories when I remembered Ember Island. It made it too difficult."

"Because you wanted to hate your father and sister," Guru Pathik prompted.

Zuko swallowed against the hard lump in his throat. "It was better to pretend I wanted nothing to do with them than to accept the truth."

"You still love them," Aang said, putting the pieces together.

"Yeah." Zuko hiccupped on a half-sob, half-laugh. "How pathetic can I get, right? My own sister tries to kill me and here I am torn between wanting to hate her and hoping that she'll turn over a new leaf so we can be a family again."

Aang wrapped his arms around him, ignoring the way Zuko tensed from the contact. "I don't think you're pathetic," he said earnestly. "The monks always taught us that we should love and forgive everyone despite their flaws." He pulled back a fraction, chewing on his lip. "Though maybe you should be careful around Azula, 'cause she's not very nice and—"

Zuko placed his palm against Aang's tattooed forehead and pushed back firmly to break the hug. "Avatar," he said. "Shut up."

Aang smiled a bit sheepishly. "Sorry. I really don't think you're being pathetic, though."

"Indeed," Guru Pathik agreed. "If anything, this proves that your heart is more pure than most. You love unconditionally."

Zuko's cheeks warmed. "It's not like I don't feel resentment. I do hate them for what they've done to me. I just"—he sighed and ran a hand through his hair—"I guess I just can't let go of the fact that we're still family. Maybe it doesn't mean anything to them, but it does to me." He gave a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know."

Guru Pathik smiled and filled a cup with onion and banana juice. "Here."

Zuko scrunched his face. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

"Oh, but I insist." The cup got shoved into his hand. "Drink up. You've earned it."

When Zuko just blinked at the old man, Guru Pathik's smile widened. It was actually kind of creepy.

"You didn't notice, did you?" the guru observed, his eyes twinkling a little. "Why don't you take another look at your Sound chakra?"

Zuko's brow furrowed, but he closed his eyes and centred on the point in his throat where the energy had been blocked. Except there was no seal now. The energy flowed freely. Somehow, he'd opened his Sound chakra. All the lies he had told himself—that he despised his family, that he hoped he never had to see them again because they had hurt him too much—had been replaced with a quiet acceptance. He still loved his father and sister, and though he genuinely wished he felt otherwise, it was the truth. The knowledge wasn't liberating, but it did give him an odd sense of peace.

"Huh," he said, opening his eyes. "I thought opening that chakra would have made more of an impact."

"I think it did," Guru Pathik answered. "You might not realise it now, but you will."

Zuko nodded and, because it seemed only natural, downed the cup of banana and onion juice. He regretted the action a second later. Aang and the guru could say what they liked, but that stuff was plain nasty.

Aang got to his feet. "Alright!" he cried, raising his fist to the air. "Just two more chakras to go!"

Zuko arched his eyebrow. "I don't see why you're so excited."

Frankly, opening the chakras was an awful experience. He was sick of feeling vulnerable and exposed. His only consolation was that Aang usually ended up crying as well. Then again, the kid had always been a bit of a cry baby. Damn it.

Aang grinned, no trace of tears now aside from his puffy, red-rimmed eyes. "More like why aren't you more excited? We're so close to the end! Soon, I'll be able to control the Avatar State! Do you know how amazing that is?"

Zuko did. He had seen Aang out of control in the Avatar State several times and he had since learnt that those powers terrified the boy. He wished he could view the end of his own journey with as much anticipation, but he still wasn't sure exactly what it would mean for him. Guru Pathik had only hinted that the balance he would gain through unlocking the chakras would help him to master his destiny. Whatever that meant.

"Let's go, let's go!" Aang urged, practically floating as puffs of wind gathered around him in his enthusiasm. "The next chakra awaits!"

Guru Pathik smiled at Zuko. "Shall we?"

Zuko sighed and got to his feet. "Alright," he said, "but no more onion and banana juice. I really will be sick."

The answering chuckles did little to assure him that his warning had been taken seriously. Still, as Zuko followed the two, he couldn't help but note that he felt so much lighter, as if there was a new spring in his step. He doubted it had anything to do with that awful juice the guru kept forcing on him, but maybe there was something to be said for this finding balance nonsense. At the very least, he was glad that he had not given up.

"Two more to go," Zuko murmured, and his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile.

Maybe he was excited to see what would happen when he opened the final chakra. Just a little.


	23. Destiny

"We lost the Avatar's trail."

Mai kept her voice calm as she gave her report. She did not bring good news, and Azula had a habit of taking her frustration out on the messenger. Not that Azula ever yelled. No, she had too much self-possession to indulge in such an excess of emotion. Instead, Azula liked to prick and prod at her friends with little stabs of cruelty. The only way for Mai to minimise the target on her head was to appear as bland as possible and make the lure of doling punishment less satisfying. There could be no hint of fear. No doubts. All Mai had to do was state the facts.

So she told Azula that it was currently not in their power to pursue the Avatar. The bison was last sighted heading towards the south eastern coast. It was very likely that the Avatar and his companions had left the Earth Kingdom. Since there had been no word of General Iroh or Prince Zuko, she surmised that the two traitors had escaped with the Avatar.

"We could follow them by boat, but it will take some time to meet up with your ship," Mai said dispassionately. "Even then, we do not have enough information to gauge where the Avatar and his companions have headed. Trying to pursue them now could end with us on a wild pig-goose chase."

Azula drummed her fingers against the armrest of her chair. Her lips had pursed as she had listened to the report, but now her eyes were keen and seemed to look beyond Mai. No doubt that clever mind was being put to work. For all that Azula was a powerful bender, her greatest weapon was her ability to strategize and turn any situation to her advantage. She could form plans and plot out the resulting chain of events with the skill of a Pai Sho Master who could envision victory with a single move. That was why Mai was not surprised when Azula's lips curved into one of her sharp little smiles.

"If we cannot follow the Avatar," Azula said, crossing her legs in a relaxed manner, "we will simply have him come to us."

Mai did not even blink at the bold statement. She had known the princess long enough to understand that the claim wasn't an idle boast. "What are your orders?" she asked.

Azula's smile widened. "How do you feel about conquering Ba Sing Se?"

oOo

It was quiet at the Eastern Air Temple. Mist shrouded everything below the narrow path that forged a staircase up the mountain. Zuko felt like he was walking into the sky. The setting sun had never seemed so big, so bright. It glowed all around him, spreading light in swirls of pink and gold—an endless stream of colour for an endless sky. Guru Pathik stopped and gestured for Zuko and Aang to sit. Once the three of them were settled, he explained that the sixth pool of energy was the Light chakra, located in the centre of the forehead.

"It deals with insight and is blocked by illusion," Guru Pathik said in his serene way. "The greatest illusion of this world is the illusion of separation. Things you think are separate and different are actually one and the same."

"Like the four nations," Aang observed.

"Yes," Guru Pathik acknowledged. "We are all one people, but we live as if divided."

Zuko considered those words. He had travelled the world for three years, but it had taken losing his memories and his status as a prince, even a banished one, to fully understand that humans were humans regardless of where they were born. It was the war that had barricaded the nations inside fortresses of suspicion and isolation, a dividing mentality of black and white, friend and foe.

But then what illusion was blocking his chakra? He had already come to terms with the fact that the concept of Fire Nation supremacy was nothing more than a lie to justify the war, along with every other bit of propaganda that had been taught to him as a child. Zuko knew better now. Maybe it was hard to always act with that knowledge in mind, but he was trying. That had to count for something, right?

_"So, what you're saying is that someone purposely sabotaged Zuko's Sound and Light chakras to give him amnesia. That's why I keep getting stopped by that wall."_

That's right. Katara had mentioned that the wall of fire blocking the deeper vaults of his mind felt at its strongest where his chi paths connected with the Light chakra. Zuko got the sense that he had broken through one of the illusions when he had regained his identity and the use of his bending. Before that day, he had not been content to rely on lies to fix his shattered world; instead, he had gone a step further and given himself amnesia to cut all ties to his family and the Fire Nation. He had become Lee: a non-bending warrior with no home and no family.

But that illusion wasn't the issue anymore. He knew who he was, and the only reason he couldn't firebend at the moment was because he had depleted his chi too much when he had healed his uncle. No, there was something else holding him back.

_"The greatest illusion of this world is the illusion of separation."_

"We're all connected," Aang said, his voice soft with wonder. "Everything is connected."

The guru murmured something in response, but Zuko was too distracted to listen. Aang's words, so simple, had triggered a memory in his mind. It had been the first time he had used his healing abilities. Aang had been bleeding. Dying. Zuko had reached out, conscious of the weakening life force that had pulsed under his palms. He had sensed that the separation between their energy, between their bodies, was not as distant as the physical eye perceived.

_Fire is life._

Zuko had bound himself to Aang in that moment. Their energy had linked. The very essence of who they were as individuals had touched and merged. He had thought he had severed the connection when he had stopped the healing, but a whisper told him the flames of life that he had passed onto the boy had never truly died.

That those flames would always burn so long as the two of them were alive.

_"The Avatar told me that he could feel your life energy dwindling when you healed me, thanks to the spiritual connection you share."_

Everything was connected. Threads of energy weaved through the air, through their bodies, through every living thing. Zuko had tapped into those paths when he had healed the Avatar and his uncle; he had anchored their lives together, letting the wounded benders take what was needed from his own essence to heal what had been damaged.

And he had never stopped being connected to them.

A shuddering breath escaped his lips. Was this one of the secrets of the Children of the Undying Fire? He had the power to heal, to strengthen, but the connections he formed were not temporary. They were undying, forged from a sun that burned with spiritual fire.

_"The greatest illusion of this world is the illusion of separation."_

Zuko closed his eyes. He searched deep within himself, sinking his consciousness into the energy paths that flowed through his body. The trail was weak since his chi was so depleted, but he was still able to follow the lines all the way to the sun that burned at the centre of his inner fire. Life. Power. He could sense the true nature of the sun now. This was the source of his healing ability, though the sphere was much smaller than usual, almost concaving into itself. Well, Zuko had expected as much. What he really wanted to check were the golden threads that extended from the sun, fusing with his own energy and—

_There._

Two doors. Or at least that was what it felt like to Zuko. The doors seemed to lead to nowhere, existing in a space of their own with no handles to be found on either side. A golden thread linked to each of the doors, thrumming with energy. He reached with his subconscious and touched one of the threads. A jolt of recognition shocked through him. He could feel the corresponding door, feel the pathway that lay beyond, and as he brushed against the seal, a whisper of air and endless spiritual power.

_Aang._

The name slipped into his mind like a puzzle piece falling into place. Yes, that was Aang's energy he could feel behind the door. Zuko touched the other thread and received a similar jolt, except this time the whisper felt like the flames from a campfire, warm and welcoming. That could only be his uncle.

He opened his eyes with a gasp and fell forward, catching himself on his hands to stop from face-planting.

"Woah, you okay?" Aang exclaimed, scrambling to his side.

Zuko stared at him with wide eyes. "You ... I could feel ..." He swallowed, still struggling to make sense of what he had just experienced.

Aang tilted his head to the side like a curious sparrowkeet. "What is it? I don't have banana and onion juice stuck to my face, do I?"

Zuko shook his head. He didn't know how to explain his discovery. There were doors made of pure energy inside him that linked his inner fire to Aang and Iroh. The doors had no handles and seemed to be sealed shut, but something in him knew that he did have the power to reopen the pathways. The key had always been with him; he just wasn't sure how to grasp it, let alone what it would mean for any of them if he did open the doors.

"Hey," Aang said, waving his hand in front of Zuko's face. "Earth to Zuko."

Zuko pushed himself into an upright position. "I think I know how to remove the wall of fire blocking my memories," he blurted.

Discovering the connection he shared with Aang and Iroh had allowed him to gain a better understanding of his bending. Now, he could see where he had gone wrong before. The wall protecting the deeper vaults of his mind had been crafted from desperation and pain. It was designed to be impenetrable, but in the end it was also just a shield that he had created out of instinct. He didn't have to break through the fire or strip it down layer by layer; he just had to take back control as master.

Because Zuko wasn't afraid anymore.

Because fire was a part of him and it had always been his to control.

Ignoring Aang and Guru Pathik for the moment, Zuko inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was not difficult to make contact with the wall of flames. However, this time he did not treat the barrier like an enemy that needed to be forcibly removed. He knew that doing so would only strengthen the wall. So he approached the flames as he would a baby turtle duck, gentle yet confident. Almost immediately, the wall began to flicker and disperse. He could have laughed at how simple it was, but the memories that had been sealed away were already beginning to surface.

_"Never do that again, Zuko! Do you understand? Never do that again!"_

_"You must ignore your instincts and do what I ask."_

_"Promise me!"_

Zuko exhaled. Just the thought of confronting his past had used to make him balk—all the shame, the pain, the secrets. Now he faced it head-on, letting the memories come as they may to fill in the missing pieces of his life.

"Did it work?"

That was Aang. Zuko blinked and leaned back when he found him inches from his face. Hadn't that little idiot heard of a thing called personal space?

"Everything is fine," Zuko said, getting to his feet. "The wall is gone, though I don't feel like all of my memories have surfaced yet."

"They will in time," Guru Pathik said. "What is important is that you have removed the barrier." A smile curved his lips. "Ah, it seems that you have unlocked the Light chakra as well. Very good."

Zuko just nodded. He had realised as much when he had lowered the wall of flames. Aang whooshed to his feet with a gust of air, already demanding that they continue to the next location. The boy stopped mid-bounce and a few creases gathered on his brow.

"Actually, why do we have to keep changing location?" Aang asked.

Zuko pressed his palm to his forehead. "You're asking this now?"

Guru Pathik chuckled. "The path to enlightenment is not purely metaphysical. Each place where we have stopped has mirrored the location of the chakras. By physically walking to the next point, you are readying your body and spirit for the next trial."

"So that's why we've gradually been getting higher," Zuko said, putting the pieces together.

"Indeed."

Aang shielded his eyes from the sun as he glanced up at the tallest point of the temple: a towering spire that seemed to reach right up to the heavens. "Is that where we are going next?"

A knowing smile was all he got in response. "Come," Guru Pathik said, turning his back on the boys. "It is time."

Aang and Zuko exchanged a glance before following the man up the mountain. The end was so close that Zuko could almost taste it on his tongue. His body had never felt lighter, more powerful. His mind had never felt so clear. Still, there was one thing that continued to bother him.

"How did you know we have a spiritual connection?" Zuko asked Aang.

Maybe Aang could give him some answers about the doors he had sensed inside his inner fire. However, Aang just looked a bit confused at the sudden question. When pressed, he shrugged and said that Roku had told him.

"I kept getting these weird feelings," Aang explained. "It was like something was being ripped from my heart. Roku told me that you had created a bond with me when you healed my wound and that the pain I felt was probably caused when our bond was about to be cut."

"Cut?" Zuko questioned.

A shadow passed over Aang's eyes. "I could feel you dying," he said softly. "Every time it happened, I got weakened and felt an echo of your pain. It was scary."

Zuko didn't know how to respond. He had no idea that Aang had been experiencing such awful moments with him. Now that he thought about it, though, there had been a moment after Azula had struck him with lightning where he had almost sensed the other boy. He had been falling, his heart a mess of violent spasms and his body convulsing. Zuko had been so sure that he was going to die, but then the flames had rushed to greet him. In that split-second as he had faded in and out of consciousness, he had felt a whisper of air intermingle with his energy. He had felt Aang.

"I think I sensed you once," Zuko said slowly, almost hesitantly. "Back when Azula almost killed me."

"I remember," Aang said. "I'd never felt the pain so strongly before. It was like there was an invisible hand trying to snatch away the threads that linked me to you. I thought you would die if I let them go, so I held on as tightly as I could." His brow furrowed. "You were out at sea, right? I think I saw you."

Zuko's heart stuttered in its rhythm. "What?"

Aang explained how, while trying to keep their bond intact, he had got a glimpse of Zuko drifting on the water. The images had been confusing and more like fragments, but it was as if they had shared the same body for a moment. Aang had felt the vestiges of lightning shocking through Zuko's system. He had felt his pain.

"What do you think it means?" Aang asked.

Zuko shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine."

If he was a betting man, though, he would put his money on the theory that it probably had something to do with those doors of energy.

"Maybe Guru Pathik can help?" Aang suggested. "He seems to know a lot about this spiritual stuff."

Zuko agreed that it was worth a try. He approached the older man and explained the situation.

Guru Pathik got a thoughtful expression on his face. "It does indeed sound like you share a bond," he said, stroking his snowy beard. "As for what it means, that is something only you can discover for yourselves. There are many kinds of spiritual connections." He nodded at Aang. "The bond you share with your spirit animal, Appa, is just one example."

"My connection with Appa feels different to what I experience with Zuko," Aang admitted.

Guru Pathik nodded, no doubt having expected as much. "I'm afraid I do not know much about the Children of the Undying Fire or their ability to form bonds through healing. However, I suspect that Aang's own high level of spirituality made him much more sensitive to your connection." He glanced at Zuko. "If you wish to understand more, you will need to learn how to control your abilities and not just act upon instinct. You were the one who created this bond; that means that you control its potential and limitations."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Zuko demanded. "No one seems to know anything about the Children of the Undying Fire, and it seems like what little that has been written about them has either been tampered with or destroyed."

"I do not claim that the journey will be easy for you," Guru Pathik allowed, "but by coming here you have already taken the first step. Perhaps unlocking the final chakra will make your path clearer for you."

Zuko swallowed back the frustrated words that threatened to spill from his mouth. It wasn't the guru's fault that he didn't know more about fire healers. For now, Zuko supposed he would just have to see what happened when he unlocked the final chakra.

The sky was dark by the time Guru Pathik, Zuko and Aang reached the top of the tower. They were so high up that Zuko could feel his lungs protesting at the thinness of the air. He shivered and was glad for his long-sleeved tunic. Even the heavens seemed only a breath away. The stars were so bright that it felt like he could reach out and touch them.

Guru Pathik's expression was solemn as he faced the two boys who sat opposite him. "Once you open this chakra, you will be able to use the full extent of your power. For Aang, this means that you will be able to go in and out of the Avatar State as you desire; you will have complete control and awareness of all your actions." His gaze shifted to Zuko. "It is unclear what the final chakra will mean for you, Prince Zuko. The spirits have only told me that this will help you to realise your destiny."

"Destiny, huh?" Zuko murmured.

His uncle had told him that there was a bright destiny that awaited him. Perhaps now he would finally catch a glimpse of that vision.

Guru Pathik met each of their gazes. "Are you ready?"

"Let's do this," Aang said, his eyes brimming with determination.

Zuko just nodded.

The guru settled into a more comfortable position and explained that the Thought chakra, the final chakra, was located at the crown of the head. It dealt with pure cosmic energy and was blocked by earthly attachment.

"Meditate on what attaches you to this world," Guru Pathik said gently.

Zuko closed his eyes and pondered the things that kept him bound to the world. The obvious one was his uncle. Iroh had been his anchor during the three years they had spent together on the ship, and even now the old man had a special place in Zuko's heart.

_"Come play Chase the Waves with me!"_

Azula's gap-toothed smile bloomed into view. Yes, she was also part of his earthly attachments, along with his parents. Those attachments were more painful than what he felt for his uncle, but they were real nonetheless. Even the Fire Nation itself was an attachment in its own way. Zuko was a prince, regardless of whether he had been banished, and the duty he felt towards his people would never quite be erased.

Except that was what Guru Pathik wanted him to do.

"Let all of those attachments go," Guru Pathik advised. "Let them flow down the river. Forgotten."

"What?" Aang exclaimed. "Why would I let go of Katara? I—I love her."

Zuko blinked. That was news to him, though he could understand Aang's reluctance to forget the girl he loved. Zuko wasn't sure if he could let go of his earthly attachments either.

"Learn to let her go or you cannot let the pure cosmic energy flow in from the universe," Guru Pathik warned.

Aang folded his arms across his chest. "Why would I choose cosmic energy over Katara? How could it be a bad thing that I feel an attachment to her? Three chakras ago, that was a good thing."

Guru Pathik would not be moved. "You must learn to let go."

Aang lowered his gaze, chewing on his lip in obvious uncertainty. Zuko left him to it and focussed on dealing with his own earthly attachments. The guru had made it clear that all of his ties had to be loosened and forgotten if he wanted the cosmic energy to flow through him. Still, something didn't add up. Or maybe it was just that he and Aang were trying to approach the matter from the wrong angle. As Aang had pointed out, the other chakras had helped them both to understand the importance of love and duty. It didn't make sense to throw that all away, not unless "letting go" was not the same as giving up forever.

_"Sometimes you have to take a step back in order to move forward."_

Zuko frowned. Where had that thought come from? His uncle had said the phrase to him once, though he couldn't remember when or why. There had been so many proverbs he had been forced to listen to over the years, most of which had been too convoluted for him to unravel. Still, this one was clear enough: distance was not always a bad thing. His earthly attachments were important to him and he wanted to hold onto them, of that there was no denying. However, if he wanted to move forward, if he wanted to go beyond the purely physical, he couldn't bind himself to a single person or nation. Doing so would mean that those same attachments would dictate his every action, just as they had been doing for the past three years.

After all, he would have never sacrificed his morals to embrace a cursed destiny had he not been so attached to his father or the Fire Nation. He would have never feared his healing powers so much had he not cared about his mother's opinion nor promised her that he would resist his instincts. It was Azula's betrayal that had driven him to throw caution to the wind and almost got him killed, and even amnesia had not stopped his childish, instinctive need to anchor himself to his uncle's side.

"You understand now," Guru Pathik said, speaking through that strange, telepathic way of his.

For answer, Zuko envisioned the different attachments that kept him bound to the earth. The heavens swirled around him, getting closer and closer as, one by one, the ties that he clutched in his hand loosened and slipped from his grasp. Iroh, Azula, his father, his mother, the very nation that had been his home for thirteen years, they all faded into the stars.

"Let the cosmic energy flow," Guru Pathik encouraged.

Zuko inhaled a deep breath. Light poured down from the heavens in the colours of the aurora, creating an opening that extended beyond the stars in radiant beams of pink, green and blue. Zuko followed the light, pulled upwards on invisible wings. Not once did he glance back at the planet that he had left behind; he only faced forward. A snaking path solidified under his feet. At the other end loomed a spectral figure that glowed with golden flames. Zuko's eyes widened. He was looking at himself.

Carefully, he made his way along the path. Cosmic energy thrummed all around him like a beating heart, beckoning him forward. His own heart quickened in time to the rhythm and the fine hairs on his arms prickled from the sheer surge of power amassing within the starry space. The closer he got to the glowing apparition, the more aware he was of the flames stirring within his body. He also noticed that there was a smaller figure cradled within the apparition's hands: it was himself as he was now, still weak and curled up in foetal position, waiting to be awakened.

Zuko stopped at the end of the path. The apparition gazed down at him with eyes brimming with golden flames. It spread its hands in a cupping motion, unveiling the sleeping figure like an offering. Zuko reached out and touched the curled up figure's forehead, somehow knowing that this was what he was meant to do. A jolt of energy surged through him, shocking him right to his core. He saw flames that burned in all the colours of the aurora; he saw doors that opened and threads of gold that connected to hundreds upon hundreds of souls, like a solar system of planets orbiting the sun.

"This is who you are," a blend of voices whispered, coming from every corner of the universe. "Embrace it."

Zuko opened his eyes with a gasp. He was back on the tower with Aang and Guru Pathik, his heart pounding and his body still thrumming with energy. "W-what just happened?" he stammered.

Guru Pathik smiled. "You unlocked the final chakra."

Zuko stared at his hands in awe. He could feel the pure energy burning within him, just waiting to be accessed. In a rush of giddiness he turned to Aang, only to pause. Aang's mouth was set into a decided frown and his grey eyes were downcast. This was not the face of a boy who had learnt how to master the Avatar State.

"What's wrong?" Zuko asked.

Aang hugged his knees to his chest. "I can't let go of Katara. I just can't."

"You know that letting her go doesn't mean you have to stop loving her," Zuko pointed out. "All you're doing is releasing the ties that hold you down to her. I thought that would have been easy for you, given the whole Air Nomad philosophy of freedom."

"This is different."

Zuko raised his eyebrow. "Is it?"

Aang averted his face.

"Listen, Aang," Zuko said, and he scrunched his nose a little at how weird it was to say the kid's name. "Avatar" just came so much more naturally to him. "I know you care about Katara, but you can't master the Avatar State unless you unlock the final chakra."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I think you're scared and confused. You lost everything when you woke up after being trapped in that iceberg for a hundred years. The Fire Nation had destroyed your people, the world had moved on without you, and there you were still twelve years old and dealing with being the Avatar."

Aang swallowed and stared down at his hands.

"Katara became an anchor to you, right? She called you her family, comforted you when you were sad. She made you feel happy. Of course you're scared of letting her go, because it feels like you'll have nothing to hold onto if you lose her, right?"

Aang's breath hitched a little. He nodded. Zuko gripped his shoulder. The contact surprised Aang enough to make him raise his gaze.

"You're not going to lose her, Aang," Zuko said, and this time he didn't even fumble on the name. "But if you keep trying to make her your anchor, a part of you will always be controlled by your attachment to her. Look at what's happening right now: you have the chance to master the Avatar State, to never have to fear your powers again, but instead you're holding yourself back because you're scared that you'll find yourself alone again." He shook his head. "You're just running away."

A rush of breath escaped Aang's lips. "I—you're right. I know you're right, but I just can't do it. I can't let go of her."

"You were the one who told me that you have responsibilities that set you apart from others and that no amount of running away would change that. This isn't just about what you want anymore; this is about fulfilling your duty as the Avatar." He shifted to his knees, gripping both of Aang's shoulders. "I know you haven't forgotten what happened at the North Pole. Whether you like it or not, hundreds of people died that night because you couldn't control your powers."

Aang's eyes widened. Some of the colour drained from his cheeks. "I ..." He swallowed, and his gaze skittered to the side.

Zuko tightened his grip, forcing Aang to meet his eyes. "You told me that you wanted me to give you a chance, a chance to be a better Avatar. Well, this is your chance. Prove that you will do what it takes to never let the massacre of the North Pole happen again. Prove to me that you're not all talk."

There was a long moment where the two of them just stared at each other. Tears rolled down Aang's cheeks.

"Okay," he said in a small voice. "I'll try."

Zuko released his shoulders and sat back, watching as Aang closed his eyes and went into a meditative state. In a way, Zuko knew that it was cruel that a child should have to take on so much responsibility. Aang should be allowed to goof off like other kids, to have crushes on pretty girls and throw his heart into love instead of learning how to control cosmic energy. Except Aang was the Avatar, and the world needed the all-powerful being that controlled the four elements, not the goofy airbender who enjoyed riding giant fish. It was cruel, but it was also just reality. Zuko should know; he'd never been allowed to have much of a childhood either.

_Hang in there, buddy,_ Zuko thought, his gaze softening.

They both had duties to the world that they needed to fulfil. No matter how painful the sacrifice, destiny would not be denied.

oOo

"They're back!" Toph announced.

Katara glanced up from watching Iroh teach Sokka how to play Pai Sho. (Much to Iroh's delight, a board had been found in one of the rooms, though some of the tiles had been missing.) Sure enough, Katara saw three figures enter the chamber where the group had gathered. Momo let out a happy chirrup and leapt off her shoulder, flying circles around Aang, Zuko and Guru Pathik's heads before he settled on the airbender like a furry hat. Aang smiled and reached up to pet the lemur.

"Hey, buddy," he said, rubbing under Momo's chin. "I missed you, too."

Katara scrambled to her feet and rushed towards the boys. "How did it go? Are you okay? What happened?" She pulled Aang into a tight hug. "We were so worried! You took so long and—"

"Breathe, Katara," Sokka advised.

"Or maybe let him breathe," Toph added. "I think you're strangling Twinkletoes."

Katara's cheeks flamed and she quickly released Aang, even as the others chuckled at her antics. Momo gave her the stink eye from where he now perched on Zuko's shoulder. Apparently, he didn't like the fact that her hug had knocked him off Aang's head. Even Appa got in on the action and let out a low rumble, though that might have just been his way of greeting Aang. Appa certainly seemed happy to see his master.

"We're fine, Katara," Aang said, looking a bit pink himself. "Better than fine, actually."

"Then you managed to unlock all those chakra thingies?" Sokka asked.

"Yeah." Aang cast a shy smile up at Zuko. "Somehow, we managed to unlock them all."

Zuko nodded to him, a gesture that Katara sensed was weighted with more than just acknowledgement. Something had clearly happened between the two during their time with the guru. They seemed much closer, almost friendly. Zuko's gaze flickered to her as if bidden by her stare.

"Katara."

She glanced back at Aang. "Oh, sorry. What were you saying?"

He smiled and told her that he knew how to go in and out of the Avatar State now. "Watch!"

And just like that he was glowing, the tattooed arrows flaring to life all over his body. His irises and pupils changed to pure white. Sokka let out a girlish squeak and backed away from him, but Aang just chuckled and held up his hands.

"It's fine," he said, though his voice was layered with hundreds of ancient voices. "I know what I'm doing now."

To prove his point, he exhaled and all of the glowing stopped. He was back to being Aang, the boy with blue tattoos and ordinary grey eyes.

"Wow," Katara breathed. "That was amazing."

He grinned and scratched his cheek. "Thanks."

"What about you, Sunshine Prince?" Toph asked, turning her blank gaze in Zuko's general direction. "Got any new tricks to show?"

Zuko frowned. Perhaps he took exception to the nickname. "Not really," he admitted. "I know I can access the full extent of my bending at will now, but that doesn't mean I know how to use it properly." His voice took on a dry tone. "Unlike the Avatar, I don't have my past lives to explain the finer details to me."

Aang grinned. "Then we'll just have to find you a teacher who can show you."

"Good luck with that," Zuko muttered.

Iroh stroked his beard. "The idea is not completely farfetched. The scrolls you found in Wan Shi Tong's library might have been written before the war, but Shang did state that he met some of the 'pale-eyed ones' on his journey. The fact that you are standing with us today suggests that there could be more fire healers out there. Plus, let us not forget that your own mother and her lady-in-waiting were aware of your abilities."

"I know that," Zuko said. "I just meant that actually finding someone who can teach me isn't going to be easy. We've travelled all over the world and haven't met any other fire healers. If they are out there, they're going to be very well hidden."

"You found me," Aang pointed out, clasping his hands behind his head with a grin, "and I went missing for a hundred years."

"He's got you there," Sokka said, clapping Zuko on the back.

Zuko shot him a startled glance. No doubt he wasn't used to such gestures of comradery.

Katara repressed a smile. "Well, it seems like you both managed to do what you needed to here. Aang learnt how to master the Avatar State, and I'm guessing Zuko got his memories back, right?"

He nodded. "The wall is gone. I'm still waiting for some of my memories to surface, but at least they're accessible now."

"Indeed," Guru Pathik said, embracing the group with a warm smile. "My two pupils have done very well for themselves. In fact, this calls for a celebration!"

Zuko groaned. "Not—"

"Banana and onion juice," Aang finished for him.

Guru Pathik unearthed a jug and several cups from seemingly out of nowhere. "Drink up, everybody!"

The two boys stared at each other and then Aang burst into loud giggles. Even Zuko was laughing, though he covered his face with his hand in a gesture that was reminiscent of Sokka face-palming. If there was one thing that would never change, no matter how many chakras were opened, it was Guru Pathik's love for banana and onion juice.

* * *

This brings us to the end of Book 2. I hope you enjoyed. I know the amnesia trope can be pretty hit and miss, but I felt it fitting to use it here. Zuko needed something drastic to make him stop being blindly/desperately loyal to his father and just figure out what he wants, and it also allowed him to form bonds with the gaang as Lee in the way that would have otherwise been impossible.


End file.
